


Enchantment

by ibonekoen



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Mages, Magic, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibonekoen/pseuds/ibonekoen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mages have always been a part of society for as long as anybody can remember, and many other supernatural beings went unnoticed — aside from the occasional tale that could be written off as a flight of fancy or imagination.</p>
<p>At least, that was the case until a year ago, when a farmer in Montana shot a wolf trying to steal his chickens. Upon the wolf’s death, it reverted to its human form, and people began to speculate about the existence of werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [](http://secret-chord25.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://secret-chord25.livejournal.com/)**secret_chord25** for betaing this. ♥

Six-year-old Molly Hummel crawled up onto her father’s lap, smiling up at him. “Daddy, tell us a story.”

Her sister, Stefani, who was four years older, wrinkled her nose as she rested her head on the windowsill, watching the rain pour down outside their apartment. “Yeah; it’s not like there’s anything else we can do.”

Blaine chuckled from where he sat on the couch, bouncing Molly in his lap. “A story, huh?” His face brightened. “Have I ever told you how I met your father? It was back way before you guys were born, back before I even knew werewolves existed.”

Stefani lifted her head and turned away from the window, looking confused. “But weren’t you a werewolf, Daddy? How could you not know they existed?”

Blaine shook his head and patted the empty space beside him on the couch. “Nope. I was a mage before I was a werewolf. Your father had to turn me.”

Stefani climbed up on the couch and settled against his side; he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, cuddling her close. He could hear Kurt bustling about in the adjacent dining area, working on his fall fashion line.

“You see, when I was growing up, I’d heard stories of werewolves, but as far as I knew, they were just myths. I’d certainly never met any.”

“Did Papa jump out at you and bare his teeth?” Molly asked, baring her own teeth and letting out a little growl that Blaine found absolutely adorable.

He laughed and shook his head. “No way. It happened by accident, actually. But I’m getting ahead of the story.

“See, everybody knew about mages. There was practically one in every family, or so the Dalton Academy headmaster liked to claim — that’s where I went to school. It wasn’t the only mage school in the world, but it was the best in Ohio. I was a junior the year I met your father in fair Westerville, where we lay our scene-”

He could hear Kurt’s “tsk” from the dining area, and he laughed, glancing in that direction. “What? I’ve barely gotten started!”

Kurt paused in his sewing to give his husband a reproachful look. “Don’t plagiarize classic literature to tell our story, Blaine. We weren’t star-crossed lovers and we’ve had a much happier ending. If you _must_ use a clichéd opening line, start with ‘Once upon a time.’ It’s more fitting, after all.” He wiggled his fingers at the girls, smirking. “All that _magic_ and those mystical elements...”

Blaine just laughed. “Okay, okay, fine.” He gathered the girls closer to him, snuggling them. “Once upon a time...”

* * *

Mages had long been a commonplace part of everyday life. After the fall of the Roman Empire, mages sought to establish themselves in a society that would thrive and last through the ages. And rather than retreat into the shadows and conjure their magic behind closed doors, the mages kept themselves out in the open, forming schools where young practitioners could hone their skills.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t those who opposed the mages and thought them hedonistic and godless. Indeed, wars waged between humans and mages for centuries. The dawn of the Renaissance and man’s Enlightenment brought a tenuous truce that was strengthened by intermarrying between humans and mages.

The subsequent passage of time meant that humans and mages learned to coexist, and the days of mages being executed for doing what came naturally to them disappeared. It became commonplace for a mage to be born to a human family, and for the child to be sent away to special schools where they would learn to control their magic. Mages’ magical abilities didn’t manifest until puberty, and since humans had a tendency to mock what they didn’t understand, many a young mage suffered teasing and bullying.

Of course, with all the humans’ attentions focused on mages, many other supernatural beings went unnoticed — Aside from the occasional tale that could be written off as a flight of fancy or imagination, they were seldom a part of community life.

At least, that was the case until the early two thousands, when a farmer in Montana shot a wolf trying to steal his chickens. Upon the wolf’s death, it reverted to its human form, and people began to speculate about the existence of werewolves.

* * *

Blaine Anderson groaned and bent forward, resting his forehead against his folded arms. If he had to listen to his ‘perfect’ brother prattle on about how great it was to be a mage in Hollywood for just one minute more, his head was going to explode. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing and each fake laugh his brother emitted only seemed to make the pain worse. He didn’t even have to lift his head to know his classmates were eating up every syllable that fell from Cooper Anderson’s _perfect_ lips.

Blaine had long since tuned him out, somewhere around the time he started talking about pointing for _emphasis_ when in the midst of a dramatic scene or important spell. Blaine had expected at least Wes Montgomery to poo poo that idea — he’d studied every magical tome in the very extensive library at Dalton Academy for Young Mages. Surely if there was something to all the pointing nonsense, he would’ve found in those tomes. If it was such an important piece of spell casting, why wasn’t it mandatory teaching at Dalton?

But Blaine’s hopes of Wes putting Cooper in his place had been dashed when he’d glanced over at his friend and found him scribbling down every word Cooper said. So, Blaine had put his head down and started to count all the things he’d rather be doing.

He’d just reached number fifty-seven (giving his Aunt Matilda a pedicure, bunions and all) when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Blaine breathed a loud sigh of relief and shot to his feet, grabbing his messenger bag off the back of his chair. Slinging the strap over his head and settling the bag against his hip, he started toward the door of sweet freedom.

“Blainey, hold up a second.”

He cringed at the nickname and hoped that none of his friends had heard that. Judging by the brightness of Jeff’s eyes and the smirk on Trent’s face, he wasn’t so lucky. Gritting his teeth, he spun to face his brother. “What, Cooper?”

Cooper lifted his hands, palms facing outward in a show of peace “Whoa, tiger cub, sheath those claws. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You put your head down there at the end of my lecture, and I was worried you might be feeling sick.” He put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and leaned in, peering into his brother’s eyes. He widened his eyes almost to the point of bugging out of his head and then squinted them almost closed. “Hmm, you do look a bit feverish. Why don’t you head home? I’ll talk to the principal.” He gave his brother a wink and nudge of the shoulder.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Cooper, I’m _fine_. I just had a headache. Besides, I can’t go home — the Warblers are having an impromptu performance in the common room. In fact, I’m going to be late.” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.

Cooper’s eyes brightened. “The Warblers, huh? Perfect! I’ve been wanting to see my little brother in action!” He reached out to ruffle his brother’s hair and then made a face, not at all surprised when it didn’t move an inch. “Jeez, Blainey, you could ease up on the hair gel.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and just barely suppressed the urge to groan at the thought of Cooper attending what was technically a rehearsal. There was no doubt in his mind that the Warblers would excel, but the last thing he needed was Cooper criticizing every little detail (or “offering helpful tips,” as Cooper saw it). Why hadn’t he just lied about the location of the performance — or better yet, not mentioned it at all?

“You know how my hair gets when it’s left unchecked, Cooper.” He sighed. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

Cooper grinned and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Relax, Blainey. It’s always better to be fashionably late.”

* * *

Blaine was reluctant to admit that Cooper occasionally got things right, but if they hadn’t been late leaving the classroom because Cooper liked to hear himself talk, Blaine probably wouldn’t be running through a hallway right now, clutching the hand of a boy who he was almost positive was fae.

As Cooper and he had been walking toward the Warblers practice room, Blaine had spotted the boy coming down the staircase in the main hall. He’d immediately known the boy was out of place — Kurt Hummel had certainly put a lot of effort into his jacket, but Blaine could’ve spotted it as a fake from a mile away. Still, Blaine had to give the kid credit since his clothes had clearly fooled someone at the main gate.

Shooing Cooper on ahead hadn’t been easy, but once his brother had gotten a look at the boy who was holding Blaine’s attention, he’d gotten a nudge and a knowing wink. “Go get ‘im, tiger,” Cooper had said as he’d pushed Blaine toward the staircase.

Blaine knew Kurt wasn’t from Vocal Adrenaline — he smiled too much. The Warblers had a new opponent at Sectionals that year, the New Directions; he didn’t know too much about them and wondered if Kurt was one of them.

He’d make sure to ask — after he knocked Kurt’s socks off, of course.

The ‘shortcut’ that Blaine had led Kurt down wasn’t really that short — in fact, it took them twice as long to get to the common room as the route Kurt had been taking — but who could blame Blaine for wanting to spend a little extra time with such a cute spy?

* * *

There was no denying it — Kurt was _enthralled_. Blaine had seen the awe in Kurt’s eyes from the moment he’d sung the opening of _Teenage Dream_ , and his confidence had soared after that — at least, until he’d glanced over to where Cooper was standing by the doorway. Cooper’s brow furrowed and he had a look of deep concentration on his face as he watched the choreography, and Blaine’s heart sank when he saw a minute shake of his brother’s head.

The thought of Cooper wanting to talk to him after the performance and offer more of his so-called advice left a bad taste in Blaine’s mouth and almost made him fumble the lyrics. As soon as the song was over, he wasted no time crossing the room to where Kurt stood. Grabbing Kurt’s hand and shooting his brother a defiant look, he led the other boy out of the room.

“You like coffee, right?” he asked quickly. “There’s this really great coffee shop in Lima called—”

“—The Lima Bean?” Kurt’s eyes lit up with brilliance that Blaine was pretty sure rivaled the sun. “I love coffee! And the Lima Bean has the _best_ , bar none.” Seeming to realize his runaway enthusiasm, he cleared his throat and toned down his face-splitting grin, offering Blaine a soft smile instead. “I mean, yes. I’d love some coffee. And I’m Kurt, by the way.”

Blaine chuckled at Kurt’s attempt to rein himself in. “Nice to meet you, Kurt. I’m Blaine, and great! We can talk about your lack of an official Dalton blazer. Don’t let the headmaster see; you’ll get expelled for that.” He winked to let Kurt know he was teasing, although he did find the slight panic that had spread across Kurt’s face somewhat endearing.

He continued to smile somewhat smugly throughout the short walk to the parking lot, until Kurt sent him a warning glare that quickly dissipated into a bemused grin. Blaine just flashed a cheeky grin in return. They were already off to a good start.

* * *

Blaine set Kurt’s coffee cup down in front of him and took a seat across from him, debating how to breach the issue of Kurt being a spy. He took a sip of his own coffee and licked his lips.

“You’re not really a new student at Dalton, are you?”

He’d guessed that the head-on approach was a good start, but even he was a little startled by how forward his words were. They must’ve startled Kurt as well — he froze with the top of his cup pressed against his own bottom lip, his eyes wide.

Kurt managed to take a sip of his coffee and then carefully set his cup down over the coffee ring that had already formed on the table surface. “How did you know?”

Blaine couldn’t stop his grin from widening. “Your jacket. It’s a clever knock-off, I have to admit, but you lack the red piping and the material’s off.” He shrugged. “At least you tried to blend in — the last spy we caught didn’t even have a _tie_ , much less a jacket.”

Kurt ducked his head, a tinge of pink in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Do you get many spies?”

Blaine lifted one shoulder in a casual half-shrug before taking a sip of his own coffee. “Vocal Adrenaline tries to send a spy over here once a year. They never fool anyone because they always try to attend classes, and it becomes painfully obvious that they have no magical talent whatsoever.” He let his gaze sweep over Kurt. “But something tells me you’re not from Carmel High.”

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes. “Vocal Adrenaline _wishes_ they had me.”

Blaine shook his head, leaning forward without even realizing it, his hand resting over Kurt’s. “No; you’re too good for them.”

Kurt’s eyes widened in what Blaine assumed was surprise, and he coughed a little, realizing that his tone had been a little intense. Blaine pulled his hand away, looking sheepish.

Kurt still looked taken aback, and he dragged his tongue over his lips, making the pink of them wet and glossy. “Well, you haven’t even heard me sing, and I’m not a mage, either. I’m just...me.”

Blaine lifted his eyebrows as he forced his eyes to drop to the table. It didn’t stop him from mentally replaying the trek of Kurt’s tongue across his lips. “Doesn’t matter — I can just tell. You smile and look like you actually mean it, and not being a mage would explain why I haven’t seen you in any classes. You get bonus points for not trying to pass yourself off as one.”

He lifted his head to look at Kurt again, smiling softly. “So, you’re not from Vocal Adrenaline and you’re a little young to be from The Hipsters, so that leaves the New Directions.”

Kurt’s lips curled upward in a tiny smile. “By Jove, I think he’s got it.”

Blaine felt his heart lift as he grinned in turn. “It was elementary, dear Watson,” he responded in his best imitation of a British accent. His grin brightened as Kurt laughed, and he couldn’t help but feel a flutter in his chest.

“Well, I thank you for the coffee, but I should probably be on my way.” Kurt smiled as he grabbed his messenger bag from the seat next to him, and he stood, pulling the strap over his head.

Blaine bit his lip as he watched Kurt stand and adjust his bag so that it rested on his hip, and Blaine shot to his feet as Kurt turned away. “Wait!”

Kurt paused and glanced back at Blaine, an eyebrow arched. “Yes?”

Blaine felt his face growing warm. “I, uh... I was wondering if I could see you again.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re not trying to get New Directions secrets out of me in retaliation of me spying on you, are you?”

Blaine laughed and shook his head. “No, definitely not. I just- You seem like a nice guy, and I’d like to get to know you better.” He blinked and felt heat rushing to his cheeks again. “Oh, I mean, you are- Well, I just _assumed_ \- I-” He frowned, silently cursing his sudden inability to do more than stutter; he was usually more eloquent.

Kurt, for his part, just looked amused. “Well, this time your assumption was correct — if you were assuming that I’m gay.”

Blaine let out a nervous laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t assume, I just-” He hesitated, trying to frame his rationale in a way that wouldn’t be offensive.

Kurt chuckled. “I look the part, I suppose.” He licked his lips again. “So, I guess this all answers the question of whether or not you’re gay, then. Unless you make a habit of telling boys you want to get to _know_ them, straight or otherwise.”

Blaine grinned. “I’m definitely gay, and I reserve the ‘getting to know you’ thing for boys I’m interested in.” His eyes widened in surprise as he realized he’d said that aloud, and he blushed again as Kurt smiled wider.

“Why don’t we meet here tomorrow?” Kurt suggested. “Same time?”

Blaine nodded, his eyes bright with eagerness. “Yes, I’d love that.”

Kurt chewed his bottom lip for a moment, then held out his hand. “May I see your phone?”

Blaine blinked but fished his phone out of his pants pocket and placed it in Kurt’s hand. “Sure; may I ask why?”

Kurt chuckled as his thumbs flew across the screen. “So I can give you my number, silly.” He handed the phone back, and grinned as his own phone buzzed. “And there — now I have yours too.”

Blaine glanced down at his phone, the message screen still open. He could see a text message to _Kurt Hummel_ , and he felt that fluttering again. “Okay. So. Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

Kurt grinned and nodded as he slipped his phone back into his bag. “I guess you will.”

* * *

Blaine floated through the front door of his house, a bright smile on his face and a dazed look in his eyes. He didn’t even notice his brother lounging on the couch until he heard a pointed “Ahem.”

He snapped out of his daydream and frowned as he saw the smirk on Cooper’s face. With the sight of that smirk came the recollection that Cooper had been shaking his head during Blaine’s earlier performance, and he scowled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He had no desire to hear what his brother had to say, and he ducked his head, hoping to head out of the foyer and up the stairs.

“Blainey, wait! I want to talk to you!”

Blaine cringed and paused just two short steps away from the bottom of the stairs. He let out a long-suffering sigh and slowly turned on his heel, walking back to the entrance of the living room with measured steps. “Yes, Cooper?”

Cooper gestured toward his brother and then patted the cushion next to him. “Sit down. We need to talk about the Warblers.”

Blaine tensed as he walked over to his brother, sitting down beside him. “Oh?”

Cooper nodded, oblivious to his brother’s discomfort. “They’re holding you back, baby brother.”

Blaine turned his head to stare at his brother with a flabbergasted expression on his face. “They’re... holding me back? How do you-” He shook his head. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

He scooted forward, intending to stand up and walk away, but Cooper’s hand clamping down on his shoulder stopped him. He threw a glare over his shoulder, but Cooper didn’t take the hint.

“Blainey, I’m saying this in your best interest. You’re destined for great things, and they’re keeping you tethered. You should strike out solo.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m still in high school, Cooper; it’s not like I’m in a band trying to get a record deal. We’re a show choir. That means we sing as a team.” He frowned. “You should know that. You were in the Warblers too.”

“And I ruled the Warblers from the start. I didn’t take orders from anybody.” Cooper shook his head and relaxed his grip on Blaine’s shoulder. “I’m telling you, Blainey, that song today... I’ve seen you do better than that, and that’s what I’m talking about, them holding you back. They’re setting you up to fail because they’re jealous of your talent.”

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes. “ _I_ chose that song, Cooper.” He frowned. “What’s wrong with Katy Perry?”

Cooper shook his head. “Nothing; she’s a gorgeous woman. I just think you were a little pitchy. You’d have sounded much better if you’d sang a different song.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m here all weekend. I can help you find something better.”

Blaine shook his head saying “That’s really not nec-” before he sighed; there was no point to finishing his sentence — Cooper had already walked out of the room. Blaine could hear the fading sound of his voice, rambling on about Duran Duran and Def Leppard.

He groaned and slumped against the couch, letting his head fall onto the back of it. He appreciated his brother’s enthusiasm and interest in his extracurricular activities; he just wished it didn’t come at the expense of his self-esteem.

He’d just resigned himself to his fate and sat up when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Expecting it to be a text from Wes or David, his whole face brightened as he saw it was from Kurt instead.

      **Kurt Hummel:** I forgot to say thank you =)  
      **Me:** For what?  
      **Kurt Hummel:** Being so nice about me spying.

Blaine couldn’t fight the grin that played across his face, and he bit his lip. Being nice to Kurt had been ridiculously easy; he didn’t really need to be thanked. Still, the fact that Kurt _had_ was pretty adorable.

      **Me:** Well, it was hard to be rude to such a nice spy =D

“Blainey! Are you coming or what? I’m in the middle of a very important life lesson here!”

Blaine wrinkled his nose as he heard his brother’s voice from the top of the stairs, and he sighed again. No point delaying the inevitable.

Rising to his feet, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and trudged upstairs to his room, where Cooper was already playing a selection of ‘80s songs, searching for the right one to showcase his little brother.

* * *

“Now, as you all know, true spellcasting doesn’t need any fancy wand waving or grandiose gestures. True spellcasting merely requires focus and a well-timed incantation.”

Blaine sat at his desk, his head propped up on his arm as he listened to his History of Magics professor. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open; Professor Carter’s voice had that monotonous quality to it that could put a meth addict asleep.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and smiled as he saw he had another text message from Kurt. They’d been texting each other ever since they’d exchanged numbers. He chuckled over the joke Kurt sent and then started to tap out a reply.

“Mr. Anderson, am I boring you?”

He startled and quickly shoved his phone into his pocket, coughing a little as he folded his hands together on top of his desk. “Uh, no, sir. Of course not.” He flashed his brightest, most charming smile.

Professor Carter’s eyes narrowed and he made a “harumph” noise before turning back to the blackboard, where he began writing incantations for the spell they were learning that day. Blaine sagged back in his seat, picking up his pen and scrawling down notes in his notebook.

When class finally ended, Blaine gathered up his belongings, packing them away in his messenger bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled his phone out of his pocket, finally getting to text his reply to Kurt.

So lost in his phone, he almost missed Wes waiting for him at the door, but he looked up at the pointed clearing of Wes’s throat. He flashed a sheepish smile and tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Oh, hey, Wes. What’s up?”

“Are you texting that Kurt boy again?” Wes asked, an accusing tone in his voice. “I hope he isn’t prying sensitive information out of you.”

Blaine just barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “He’s not prying anything out of me, Wes; relax. We’re just... He’s texted me a few funny jokes. That’s all.” He headed out of the classroom, starting toward the west wing of the building.

“Well, good.” Wes fell into step with his friend. “Your brother emailed me some notes from our last performance, along with a few song suggestions for Sectionals. I thought we might-”

Blaine cut him off with a groan as he came to a halt in the middle of the hallway. “Please tell me you’re not _actually_ thinking about following Cooper’s advice?” He fixed Wes with a stare and then groaned again when he saw the hesitation in his friend’s eyes. “Wes! You can’t tell me you don’t think he’s full of it! Look, you heard what Professor Carter said — magic isn’t about fancy gestures and grandiose wand-waving.”

“Actually, I think it was the other way around,” Wes muttered. Then he wrinkled his nose. “All right, so maybe Cooper doesn’t know what he’s talking about in regards to _magic_ , but this isn’t about magic — he’s a _performer_ , Blaine. Shouldn’t we at least consider some of his ideas?”

Blaine shook his head and continued walking down the hallway. “His ideas are ridiculous, Wes. I’d say put it to a vote, but seeing as how the majority of the Warblers are fans of his anyway, I’m pretty sure he’d win by a landslide. So you do what you feel is right and leave me out of it.” He scowled, glancing over his shoulder. “In fact, if you decide to take his advice, just go ahead and find yourself a new soloist.”

He stormed away, leaving Wes standing there with his mouth gaping open in surprise.

* * *

Kurt stood at his locker, shuffling books from his locker to his messenger bag. He had Chemistry next, which was probably his least favorite subject, so he was grateful for the distraction of his phone buzzing in his pocket. He smiled as he drew the phone out and saw he’d gotten a text from Blaine.  
      **Blaine Anderson:** Hey, are you free after school? Could really use some coffee.  
      **Me:** I think I could manage a coffee break. ;) Lima Bean?  
      **Blaine Anderson:** Is there anywhere else? :D

“Hey, boo.”

Kurt glanced up from his phone as he felt a hip bump against his, and he grinned as he saw his best friend grinning back at him. “Hey, Mercedes.”

“Soooo, who’s the mystery man you’ve been texting all day?” she asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

Kurt felt his skin growing warm, and he busied himself with straightening things in his locker. “Who said it’s a guy I’m texting?”

Mercedes scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been making googly eyes at your phone, and there’s no way you’d be doing that over a girl.” She grinned. “So, who is he? Where did you meet?”

Kurt bit his lip and glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, and then he leaned in to whisper, “You can’t tell anyone, Mercedes. Rachel would die and nobody else would understand.”

Mercedes’s eyes lit up as she leaned in and lowered her voice. “You know your secret’s safe with me.”

Kurt licked his lips. “I met him at Dalton the other day when I went to spy on them. His name is Blaine and he’s the lead singer of the Warblers.”

Mercedes’ eyebrows shot up. “Kurt!”

“Shhhh!” He cast a frantic look around but no one seemed phased by her outburst. “Mercedes! You said you’d keep this quiet!”

He could see the disapproval glinting in her eyes as she scowled. “No wonder you said Rachel would die. What if he’s another Jesse?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, grabbing his Chemistry textbook. “That’s ridiculous. Besides, we haven’t even discussed our glee clubs, aside from the fact that he asked if I’m in New Directions. We’ve just had coffee together.”

“And probably texted each other a million times.” Mercedes narrowed her eyes, studying Kurt for a moment. “You like him.”

Kurt startled a little, then cleared his throat as he closed his locker door. “Of course I do. He’s nice and fun to talk to, and he makes me laugh. Plus he’s gay. Why wouldn’t I like him?”

Mercedes shook her head. “No, I mean, you _like_ him.”

Dammit, Kurt could feel his face growing hot again, and he had such a fair complexion that he knew he must be beet red by now. “That’s absurd. I just met him, Mercedes.”

“So? Crushes move fast. Is he cute?”

Kurt paused and glanced at his friend. Was Blaine cute? “Cute doesn’t even begin to describe him,” he said a bit wistfully. He blushed as she gave him a knowing grin, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Come on; we’re going to be late for class.”

He heard Mercedes chuckle as he stepped away from the row of lockers, but he ignored her as he continued down the hall. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it, checking his messages, and he missed David Karofsky rounding the corner. He certainly didn’t miss it when Karofsky’s shoulder slammed into his, knocking him into the lockers.

Unbidden, a low growl rose in the back of his throat, and he had to fight hard to ignore the urge to turn and launch himself at the boy. He just lowered his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Did you just _growl_ at me, Hummel?”

He froze, his head jerking up at that, and his eyes widened in surprise. “What? No!” He flinched as Karofsky’s fist collided with the locker door near his head, and the ringing echoed through his ears. His nostrils flared as he tried to keep calm, and he nearly gagged at the overpowering scent of Karofsky’s sweat.

“You’d better not, you little fag,” Karofsky sneered. “I know what you are, Hummel. All it would take is one word in the right person’s ear, and you’d be hunted down.” He glared at Kurt and then scoffed, walking away, certain that his threat had put Kurt in his place.

On the contrary, it only added fuel to Kurt’s anger, and he found himself stalking after the bulkier boy, following him into the locker room. “Then you’re even more of an idiot than I realized, Karofsky!” he snapped after swiftly checking to make sure that they were alone. No one needed to overhear the conversation they were about to have — it wasn’t safe for either of them.

He glared at Karofsky as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know what I am? Well, congratulations, genius, because I know what you are too, and judging from your odious stench, you’re an alpha. Newsflash — so am I, and I’m sick of being pushed around by you. You have no right to treat me like I’m garbage just because you don’t like my sexuality. I’m not a threat to you! Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to ‘get with’ every male I come across! And, for the record, I—”

His abrupt cut-off resulted from Karofsky grasping the sides of his face and shoving into his personal space to capture his lips in a kiss that Kurt could only describe as... _sweaty_ and _gross_ and _completely unwanted_. Repulsed by their closeness, Kurt struggled against Karofsky’s vice-like hold on his arms, but before he could call upon his hidden strength to try and wrestle the other boy off of him, Karofsky pulled back, a panicked expression on his face.

“If you ever tell anybody, I’ll fucking kill you,” Karofsky managed. He punched the locker next to where Kurt stood, and then stormed out of the locker room.

Kurt blinked rapidly, too stunned to move for a good couple minutes at least. He was only jerked out of his stupor by the bang of the locker room door hitting the wall as it was enthusiastically swung open by Noah Puckerman. Kurt’s face burned with shame and loathing (though he wasn’t sure if it was more directed at himself or Karofsky), and he quickly shoved his way through the herd of boys entering the room.

He kept his head down, ignoring everyone around him until he reached the parking lot, where he unlocked his Navigator and crawled into the driver’s seat.

He gripped the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles began to turn white, and it was only when he felt a tightness in his chest that he realized he’d been breathing shallowly, his ragged pants coming out as wheezes. Tears gathered in his eyes, and when he tried to blink them away, he only succeeded in sending them spilling down his cheeks.

Sniffling, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and then took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. He slid his hand into his pocket, drawing out his phone — but he hesitated, not sure who to call. He wanted a friend to talk to but didn’t want to tell just anyone what had happened. Swallowing, he thumbed through his contacts all the way to the end, and chewed his lip as he scrolled back up to Blaine’s number.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped Blaine’s name and held his breath as the call connected.

_”Hello?”_

Kurt felt some of his tension uncoil at the sound of Blaine’s voice, and he smiled. “Hello. Blaine? It’s Kurt. We, ah, we met the other day? At Dalton.” He flushed as he heard Blaine chuckle.

_”I remember, Kurt, don’t worry.”_

Kurt let out a nervous laugh and nodded. “Right, of course.” He licked his lips. “I know you talked about meeting for coffee after school, but is there any way we can meet now? I could really use a friend. I know it’s cutting school, and-”

_”Don’t worry about it, Kurt. Are you okay?”_

The concern in Blaine’s voice warmed him. “Yeah, I’m- Well, I mean, no. It — it’s a long story; I’ll tell you about it when we’re face-to-face. I’d rather not talk about it over the phone.”

_”Sure, sure. Um, the Lima Bean, half an hour?”_

He exhaled i relief and smiled. “Perfect. I’ll see you then, Blaine. Thank you.”

* * *

Blaine smiled as he saw Kurt enter the Lima Bean and raised his hand, waving. His smile widened when Kurt caught sight and started walking toward him. “Hey.” He rose to his feet, motioning for Kurt to sit down.

As Kurt approached the table and gave him a wan smile, Blaine noticed the redness rimming Kurt’s eyes, and frowned. “Are you okay, Kurt? You look-” He cut off, clamping his mouth shut before he could point out that Kurt looked like he’d been crying. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with it, but he knew from personal experience that he hated it when people pointed out his weaknesses.

Kurt let out a soft scoff of a laugh. “Terrible? It’s okay, Blaine, you can say it.” He sat down in the seat opposite Blaine and sniffled a bit. “I had an...incident with one of the school bullies.”

Blaine’s eyebrows lifted, his heart leaping up into his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow, to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “Do you want to talk about it? You’re okay, right?” He frowned again as his eyes swept over Kurt’s body, looking for any signs of bruising or injuries. Of course, with what little skin he could actually see thanks to Kurt’s long-sleeved sweater and insanely tight pants, he really couldn’t tell much of anything.

“He didn’t physically hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kurt said, his voice sounding dull and listless compared to the animated way he’d spoken the last time they’d met face-to-face.

Blaine frowned and pulled the chair closest to Kurt away from the table so he could sit down. “What happened, Kurt?” He glanced around as he dragged his tongue across his teeth. “If you don’t want to talk about it here, out in the open, we can get coffee and leave. Go somewhere more private?”

His gaze landed on Kurt just as the other boy looked up, and he felt relieved to see a soft smile play across Kurt’s face.

Kurt nodded. “I’d like that. Somewhere more private sounds nice.”

Blaine grinned. “Great. I’ll get the coffees...and maybe a cookie to split?” He trailed off hopefully as he stood, overly fond of those black and white cookies.

Kurt chuckled and rolled his eyes before nodding. “Sure.” He opened the flap of his messenger bag, sticking his hand into the depths, but he stilled as Blaine shook his head.

“Keep your money,” Blaine insisted. “I’ve got this.” He flashed a bright smile and then walked away, joining the queue at the counter.

Once he paid for their drinks and cookie, he gathered everything up in his hands, one of the cups cradled against his chest as he walked back over to the table. He flashed a grateful smile as Kurt took the cookie out of his hand, freeing him up to grab the cup nestled against his chest.

“Thanks,” he said as he handed the cup in his hand to Kurt. His chest still felt warm from where the cup had been nestled against it, but he didn’t mind, since he was pretty sure the smile on Kurt’s face contributed to at least half of the heat.

“So, there’s a park not too far from here,” he said as he grabbed his messenger bag off the chair where he’d left it. He slung the strap over his shoulder, automatically settling the bag on his hip. “I was thinking we could go there.”

Kurt took a sip of his coffee and then nodded. “That sounds perfect.” He smiled at Blaine, motioning for him to lead the way out to the parking lot.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated side by side on a wrought iron bench overlooking a duck pond. They’ve broken the cookie in half — Blaine insisting that it broke so they each got half chocolate and half vanilla — and were in the midst of eating their respective halves. Well, Blaine was devouring his in between sips of coffee; Kurt nibbled at his.

Blaine chased the last bite of his cookie with a generous sip of his coffee, then glanced at his companion. “So... did you want to talk about whatever happened that made you call me? Not that I mind just sitting here with you. It’s nice, you know. To be able to just sit with someone and not feel obligated to talk, although I guess I’m negating that now by-” He cut off and then let out a light laugh as he ducked his head.

Kurt smiled, though it barely touched his eyes. “As I said, I had an incident with one of the school bullies. David Karofsky. He’s on the football team.” He glanced down at his hands, and Blaine couldn’t help but frown.

“What happened?” Blaine asked softly.

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out in slow, soft sighs before lifting his head to meet Blaine’s eyes. “Karofsky was taunting me. Shoved me into a locker, called me names. I just got so sick of it, so I decided to fight back and-” He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze back down to his lap.

Blaine frowned and reached out, laying his hand over Kurt’s. “Hey, it’s okay, Kurt. You can tell me.” He licked his lips as he curled his fingers around Kurt’s hand. “You’re _sure_ you’re not injured?”

Kurt shook his head and looked up again, eyes locking onto Blaine’s. “He kissed me.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “On the lips?” He winced, realizing how stupid that sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. “Sorry, that was dumb. I don’t think you’d be so upset if it had been anywhere else.” He frowned. “What did you do?”

Kurt scoffed a bit. “What could I do? Besides, he- He threatened me, then ran off before I could do anything.”

Blaine scowled, his ire rising. “Threatened you? What did he say?” He felt a protective urge to go kick that guy’s ass, even though he knew that he didn’t stand a chance against a football player. At least, he didn’t stand a chance without his magic, but there were rules and regulations about underage mages using their magic when they weren’t on school property.

“That I’d better not tell anyone what happened or he’d kill me.” Kurt shrugged, his voice small. “I don’t think you’re going to go running around telling anyone, and I needed to talk to someone.”

Blaine could feel the rage burning inside him; that someone could threaten to harm such a beautiful creature as Kurt was insane, and he had to force himself to swallow, to take deep breaths in an attempt to stamp out the fires of anger licking at his heart. As much as he wanted to drive to that school and confront the bully, he was afraid it would be dark magic he called upon to pummel Karofsky, and that would help no one.

“Kurt, you really should tell someone,” he said in a low voice once he thought he’d gotten his emotions under control. “An adult, someone you trust. What about your parents?”

Kurt shook his head. “My father has enough on his plate without worrying about me getting picked on at school.”

Blaine blinked, staring at him. “This is a little more than ‘getting picked on,’ Kurt. He threatened your life!”

Kurt frowned. “It was just something said in the heat of the moment, Blaine. He wasn’t serious.”

Blaine shook his head, beyond flabbergasted at Kurt’s blasé attitude. “And you’re willing to stake your life on that?”

He watched Kurt open his mouth and then hesitate, and he couldn’t help but nod. “Thought not. Listen, why don’t you let me come with you? I’ll talk to him, and maybe we can help him see that he’s not alone, that he has nothing to be ashamed of, being gay. If that doesn’t work, if he threatens us, we’ll go to your principal.”

“You don’t get it, Blaine. It doesn’t matter who we tell,” Kurt snapped with a quick shake of his head. “No one saw it happen but me. No one is ever around when he shoves me into lockers or calls me names or throws a slushie in my face. It would be my word against his, and I’m just a gay loser in the Glee Club. They won’t pay attention to me.”

Blaine’s heart broke for Kurt at those words, and his frown deepened, Kurt’s frustrated tone causing a pang deep inside his soul. He knew all too well that sense of frustration; it was one of a myriad of reasons he’d left public school behind his freshman year. “Doesn’t your school have a no-tolerance policy for bullies?”

Kurt shrugged. “The bullies are the jocks and the popular kids; McKinley’s staff is more concerned with their sports reputation than keeping students safe, much less students on the bottom rung of the social ladder.”

Blaine scowled and shook his head. “Public schools are an abomination.” He took a sip of his coffee, feeling even more pissed off than he had a few moments ago.

Kurt snorted. “Well, not all of us are lucky enough to be mages and go to fancy, clandestine schools.”

Blaine turned surprised eyes toward the other boy. “I beg your pardon? There’s nothing shady about Dalton.” He frowned at the look Kurt shot him that practically screamed ‘bitch, please.’

“So, you’re telling me there’s no secret society of Dalton mages who practice the dark arts and plot to overthrow the government?” Kurt arched one eyebrow upward, his gaze challenging.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. “I never would’ve taken you for a conspiracy theorist, Kurt.” He sat there for another moment or two, letting Kurt’s words stew in his head, then he scowled and fixed Kurt with a glare. “You know, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Dalton is the highest ranked school in the _country_. A Dalton graduate stands a better shot of getting into, and staying at, an Ivy League school. Dalton isn’t just about magic; it’s about preparing us for real life. Can you say the same about McKinley?”

He didn’t give Kurt a chance to answer; he jumped to his feet, grabbed his messenger bag and began to stomp away.

“Wait! Where are you going? You brought me here, remember?” Kurt exclaimed. “You can’t just drive off and leave me!”

Blaine sucked in a startled breath and ground to a halt in mid-step. He glared at Kurt for a moment and then sighed, his shoulders slumping. As much as he wanted to stalk away in righteous anger, Kurt had a point. A gentleman would never leave a fellow one stranded.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he walked back over to the bench and sat down beside Kurt.

“Hmm.”

He could feel Kurt’s eyes on him, and he squirmed on the bench, dropping his gaze down to his feet.

Kurt broke the tense silence between them. “I’m guessing I struck a nerve.”

Blaine exhaled a deep sigh and shrugged. “I just- Dalton is my safe haven. I guess I can get pretty protective of it sometimes.”

Kurt’s face softened. “Your safe haven?”

Blaine scrunched up his nose and then pressed his lips together before nodding. “I know what it’s like to be bullied, Kurt. Granted, I was never _kissed_ by any of my bullies, but I was chased out of my school because I was afraid.” He sighed. “I ran, and it’s not a moment that I’m proud of, but...” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulder.

Kurt smiled softly. “Well, I’m not a mage, so that’s not an option.” He sighed. “Though it would be nice. Dalton is a beautiful school.”

Blaine grinned, glancing at Kurt. “Yeah, it definitely is.” He frowned. “What are you going to do about your bully problem?”

Kurt sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He finished his coffee and stood up, walking the short distance to a trash can next to a tree. After throwing away his cup, he walked back over to the bench. “Thank you for skipping school with me.”

Blaine smiled and stood up. “Not a problem. It was totally my pleasure.”

“Aside from me making fun of your school?” Kurt asked with a slight smile as he nudged his elbow against Blaine’s.

Blaine laughed as he walked over to the trash can and threw away his cup and the cookie wrapper. “Yeah, aside from that. I’ll forgive you this once.” He smiled as he glanced at Kurt. “So, do you at least feel better?”

Kurt took a deep breath and let out a soft sigh, nodding. “I feel...calmer. I was angry when it first happened and, for a moment there, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.” He hesitated; it was on the tip of his tongue to explain the urge he’d felt to attack Karofsky, but that would require an explanation of _why_ he felt such aggression and, mage or not, he just wasn’t sure Blaine was ready to handle the knowledge that his newfound friend was a werewolf.

Blaine nodded. “I’m serious about coming to talk to him, if you want. It might help. It certainly sounds like he needs someone to talk to as well.” And if he happened to have a few defensive spells and potions in his arsenal, well, that was just being smart.

Kurt smiled and nodded. “All right. How about tomorrow?”

Blaine’s face brightened. “It’s a date.” Then he started to blush. “I mean, not a _date_ date. I just- Uh... I just meant-”

Kurt’s soft, trilling laughter cut him off, and he couldn’t help but grin wider in response.

Kurt nodded. “I knew what you meant. Hey, do you mind giving me a ride back to the Lima Bean? I left my car there.” He laughed quietly after a moment and snapped his fingers in front of Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine startled out of his reverie and gave Kurt a sheepish grin. “Oh! Yeah, sure!” He ducked his head and headed back toward the parking lot, Kurt trailing after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Ethan Anderson poured himself two fingers of brandy into a tumbler and dropped in two ice cubes. He held the bottle out to Cooper, who shook his head.

Shrugging, Ethan placed the glass stopper back in the decanter and returned it to its spot on the minibar. “Suit yourself.” He moved to the mahogany canapé by the fireplace and sat down, holding his drink in his hand. “So, son, give me an update. Where do we stand on our spell?”

Cooper grinned, looking quite pleased. “I’ve collected almost all of the components, so I’d say we’re in pretty good shape, all things considered.”

Ethan arched an eyebrow, clearly not sharing in his son’s enthusiasm. “ _Almost_ all of the components? What do we lack?” He exhaled heavily. “As I’ve stated before, Cooper, if we don’t have every item on the list, the spell will not work, millions of supernatural entities will be lost to this crippling disease, and we will have _failed_.”

Cooper’s eyes widened, panic flitting across his face. “Were-werewolf’s blood. I’ve searched everywhere, but no one sells it.” Almost every other item on their magical shopping list, so to speak, he’d been able to purchase through the appropriate shops and online. What couldn’t be found in either of those, he’d found in black markets and other similarly unsavory places.

Ethan’s forehead wrinkled, the disappointment evident in his eyes. “Not even in the markets of Rio de Janeiro? You can find anything there.”

Cooper shook his head, bowing it. He hated disappointing his father. “No, sir, not even there. Trust me, I talked to _everyone_. Most people laughed and said I was chasing a fairy tale, that werewolves died out decades ago.”

Ethan snorted. “Well, obviously that’s untrue. What about that man in Montana last year — that farmer? It was all over the news about how he shot a wolf trying to eat his chickens. After the wolf died, it reverted to a man, right before the farmer’s eyes.”

Cooper lifted his gaze from the floor, frowning at his father. “The media had a field day with that, but I thought it was proven to be just a hoax?”

Ethan gave a dismissive wave of his hand and took a sip of his drink. “How do we know that wasn’t a clever cover-up perpetrated by cowardly werewolves wishing to remain in hiding? Werewolves still exist, son. Mark my words.”

Cooper sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “All right, for the sake of argument, let’s say that werewolves _do_ exist. Where are we going to find one?”

Ethan’s frown turned more thoughtful as he rubbed his finger through the condensation collecting on the side of his glass. “Perhaps a locator spell is a good place to start.” He threw a pointed look at his son.

Cooper grimaced. Locator spells weren’t his forte — hell, anything that wasn’t flashy or actually had practical uses wasn’t really his forte — but he knew that look. His father expected him to do all the grunt work for the spell, which apparently included scrying for werewolves.

“Right, locator spell. Good idea, Dad; I’ll get right on that.” He rose to his feet, then cast a hesitant glance at his father, as if awaiting permission to leave the room. In fact, he was; he’d seen his father take great offense to someone just up and walking out of a room without a dismissal nod from him too many times. The person who’d offended his father usually found himself up close and personal with some sort of hex.

He relaxed when his father gave him a subtle nod and quickly left the room. It looked like he had some brushing up to do. He made a face; spellcasting had never held his attention for very long in school. He’d always appreciated the parlor tricks, the ones that could be achieved with a snap of the fingers and a flourish of one’s hand. _The easy spells_ , he could hear his Charms teacher snarl in the back of his mind.

Well, easy spells they might’ve been, but they were the ones that came more naturally to Cooper. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have an appreciation for the more complex spells that others seemed to master before they could walk — he just wasn’t good at them himself.

He didn’t even really remember what he _needed_ for a locator spell. God, did he even still _have_ his spellbooks from school? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at them. Then again, maybe he’d passed them to Blaine once he’d gotten old enough to need them.

Mentally crossing his fingers, he headed upstairs to his brother’s room. He only needed a basic locator spell and that he knew would be found inside the primer spellbooks Blaine had long since outgrown. With any luck, he’d be able to breeze into Blaine’s room, find the books on his shelves and get out before his brother was any wiser.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated his brother casting wards — spells to protect against intruders entering a dwelling — on his door, and judging by the electric tingle still coursing through his body five minutes after touching the door handle, he’d reckon that they weren’t run-of-the-mill. Cooper let out a soft groan and raked his fingers through his head, wracking his brain for a counterspell.

“See, this is why I’m an actor,” he grumbled as he failed to come up with anything. “Actors don’t have to worry about casting spells. It’s all about faking it and making it look awesome. You’re only as good as your best flick and swish.”

He froze as he heard a loud snort from behind him, and he slowly turned around to see his brother standing at the top of the stairs, a scowl on his face. He brightened, flashing his widest smile.

“Blaine! So good to see you!”

A roll of his eyes accompanied Blaine’s second snort, and he shouldered past his brother, skimming his fingers across the center of his door and mumbling archaic words under his breath. Cooper strained to make them out, but they just sounded like gibberish to him. He shook his head, exhaling loudly. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention in school.

The door glowed red for a few seconds before the color shifted to a muted pink that faded into white before disappearing altogether. Then Blaine opened his door and glared at his brother. “Do you always stand in front of my door muttering to yourself about your lack of magical talent or were you actually trying to break into my room?”

Cooper glared and folded his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to borrow a book, Blainey. What’re you hiding in there that you don’t want anyone to see anyway? And isn’t it a little pointless to put wards on the door, since Dad can break them no matter what?” His face took on a smug grin as Blaine’s scowl faded. “Bet you hadn’t thought about that, had you? Come on, I’m sure your porn collection can’t be any worse than mine. Fewer tits, maybe, but still-”

“Oh my god, Cooper, shut _up_!” Blaine covered his face with his hands to hide his blush. “I don’t need to hear about what gets you off, okay?” He parted his fingers, peeking out at his brother, and sighed as he lowered his hands. “Come on. What book did you need to borrow?”

Cooper’s face brightened and he followed Blaine into the bedroom, making a beeline for Blaine’s bookcase. “Got anything on locator spells?” His eyes skimmed the book spines, looking for a beginner’s spellbook.

“Depends. How complicated of a spell are we talking about?” Blaine set his messenger bag down at the foot of his bed, then joined Cooper at the bookcase.

Cooper shrugged. “Just your basic locator spell. Don’t you just stare into a bowl of water and concentrate on who or what you’re looking for?”

Blaine nodded and selected a book from the third shelf. “That’s one way of doing it. You could also use a mirror or a crystal — any smooth surface works, really. There’s also scrying with a map and a crystal. Amethyst works best.”

Cooper’s eyes lit up. “Even better. Let’s do that, with the map.” It would make his job a whole lot easier by providing him with an exact location rather than a murky image he had to try and decipher. He’d completely forgotten about that technique.

He clapped Blaine on the shoulder. “Good thing I’ve got you around, squirt.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me that. Are you looking for a person or an object? Because if it’s a person, you need something of theirs.”

Cooper’s face fell. He didn’t have anything belonging to a werewolf, and how would he even find something? “Uh, what if it’s an animal?”

Blaine shrugged. “Hairs or something like that would work.”

Cooper shot his brother a skeptical look. “Hairs.”

Blaine nodded, opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out an amethyst crystal pendant hanging from a silver chain. One end of the crystal was wrapped in thin silver wire, and the other end tapered into a pyramid point. “Or something.”

Cooper frowned as he watched his brother grab a world atlas book from the bookcase. “Are you sure I can’t just concentrate really hard on what I’m trying to find?”

Blaine rolled his eyes as he set the book down on his bed and opened it to a map of the state of Ohio. “I guess you could, but I’m not guaranteeing that it’ll be effective or accurate. Having a personal object of the person or animal or something related to the thing just gives the magic a focal point.”

Cooper raked his fingers through his hair. Just his luck; nothing could ever be easy. “Uh huh. Right, sure, personal object or, in this case, since it’s an animal — hairs.” He had no idea where he was going to get something personal from a werewolf. He rubbed his hand over his chin, looking thoughtful. “Would hairs of a similar species work?”

Blaine shrugged. “Maybe. They might just lead you to an animal of that species.” He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of animal are you looking for, anyway?”

Cooper grimaced and shook his head. “No, no, I’ve told you too much already.” He picked the atlas book up off the bed and reached for the crystal in Blaine’s hand. “Don’t you have a Warbler practice to go to or something? Or, hey, you could go invite that boy for coffee, the one you were all googly eyed over the other day.”

Blaine gave his brother a suspicious look but then rolled his eyes. “Fine; keep your secrets. And his name is Kurt.” He felt his cheeks heat up just a little as he smiled; just the thought of Kurt brightened his spirits.

Cooper snorted, looking far too amused for Blaine’s comfort. “Right. _Kurt_. Go have coffee with him. I’ll return your stuff when I’m done.”

Some smugness found its way onto Blaine’s face in the form of a smirk. “Are you sure you can handle a locator spell, Coop? I mean, it doesn’t require any flicking and swishing. You have to actually _focus_ for more than two seconds.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re so funny, _Blainey_.” Cooper rolled his eyes and backed out of the room. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the concern!”

He quickly shuffled down to his bedroom and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. After some finagling and muttering several combination of archaic words that he thought meant protection, he managed to cast a few rudimentary wards. Then, just to be safe, he moved his desk chair over to the door, propping it up on its two back legs and tucking the top edge of the backrest under the doorknob.

Satisfied that he’d at least managed to deter someone long enough to stow the atlas and crystal out of sight, he opened the book and laid it down on the foot of his bed. “Okay, so, I need some wolf hairs. No big deal, right?”

Except that it _was totally_ a big deal, and he cast a glance around his room. Where was he going to find something connected to a werewolf? He couldn’t just go out and hunt down a pelt or something like that. Even assuming that he could find a pelt, how would he be able to tell if it was werewolf or just plain, ordinary wolf?

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to think. There had to be something he could use. The general populace considered werewolves to be a myth, but his father and grandfather had ranted and raved about their existence for years. Well, Colin Anderson had been the louder of the two, insisting that not only did werewolves exist, but he’d shot one. Cooper had thought the old man was crazy.

Cooper’s eyes widened as he remembered a Christmas present from his grandfather — a smashed silver bullet Colin Anderson claimed to have dug out of the werewolf he’d shot and killed as a young man fighting overseas in the Vietnam War. Holes had been drilled through the bullet so it could be slid onto a silver chain. His grandfather had given a similar necklace to Blaine as well, intending them to be worn for protection against the inevitable werewolf uprising that he swore would happen when everyone least expected it.

At the time, Cooper and Blaine had both recoiled at the idea of wearing the necklaces for protection, and Cooper had even gone so far as to insist his grandfather was off his rocker. Six-year-old Blaine had seemed devastated by the idea that his grandfather had killed someone, even if that someone had been a wartime enemy.

Cooper had stuffed the necklace into a sock, which had promptly been shoved to the back of his sock drawer, and he’d shoved all thoughts of it out of his mind, too repulsed by the idea that the bullet had actually been _in_ someone to even think about wearing it for protection.

He hadn’t thought about it in years, and he just hoped that he hadn’t gotten rid of it. He hurried over to his chest of drawers tucked into the corner of the room and opened the top drawer, rummaging through it. When his hand hit a lone sock with a hard lump in the toe, he let out a triumphant cry and yanked the sock out, slamming the drawer closed.

Sticking his hand into the sock, he latched onto the filigree chain and yanked it out of the sock, grinning when he saw the bullet. But the grin faded when he realized he had no idea what to do with it now. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he glanced at the crystal pendant lying on top of the atlas. Maybe if he held the bullet in his hand along with the crystal, that would be enough to locate a werewolf.

He flipped through the pages of the atlas until he found a map of Ohio. “Local’s as good a place as any to start, right?” he muttered as he knelt at the foot of his bed. He licked his lips and placed the bullet pendant next to the crystal, letting them touch each other as the chains dangled from his clenched fist.

At first, Cooper was at a loss about what to do with the pendants and atlas, and he extended his hand, holding them over the map of the state. Nothing seemed to be happening, and he frowned, wondering what he was doing wrong. Maybe the bullet wasn’t enough of a personal object, but Blaine had said it only had to be related to the object he was trying to locate. Was he not concentrating hard enough?

He closed his eyes and tried to force all other thoughts out of his mind until only finding a werewolf remained. After a few moments, he began to get a headache from focusing so hard but then he felt the pendants began to move.

Opening his eyes, he watched them swing in a wide circle that slowly began to narrow, and suddenly the crystal jumped from his hand, the point planting itself on a dot on the Ohio map. Cooper leaned forward, excitement bubbling up inside him. It had worked! He’d found a werewolf! He moved the crystal aside so he could see the name of the city represented by the dot.

“Lima?” he exclaimed, eyes widening. A werewolf — an honest-to-gods, howls-at-the-moon, shapeshifting werewolf — lived within an hour of him. “Huh. What are the odds?” He frowned at the map, wondering if he could narrow it down to a specific street. Lima wasn’t New York City, but it wasn’t a tiny township either. If he could narrow his search, he wouldn’t waste time.

Half an hour later, after tearing apart his room and his father’s study, he groaned. “Where the hell do we keep all the maps in this place?” he yelled in frustration as he slammed a drawer in the kitchen.

“Why do you need a map, Cooper?”

He jumped a foot in the air at the unexpected sound of his mother’s voice — or, at least, that was how it felt to him. In reality, he merely startled and jerked up to his full height before shooting his mother a guilty look as he shuffled his feet. “Mom! How long have you been standing there?”

Dalisay Anderson gave her son a warm smile. “Long enough to see you wreck my cutlery drawer. I can promise you there are no maps lurking in there. Why do you need one?”

Cooper coughed; one of his father’s first rules had been that Dalisay and Blaine were to be kept in the dark because “they wouldn’t understand.” Cooper had thought it pretty strange — who wouldn’t understand wanting to help the rest of the supernatural world fight a debilitating disease? — but his father had insisted, and Cooper had learned a long time ago not to argue with Ethan Anderson — a lesson Blaine had repeatedly failed.

Lucky for Cooper, he was quite skillful at thinking on his feet and spinning half-truths, and he flashed his mother a bright smile. “Well, Mom, I thought it would behoove me to brush up on my locator spell skills, and I was just looking for a map of Lima. Do we have one?”

Dalisay chuckled and nodded, motioning for him to follow her. She led him to the parlor room and walked over to a roll-top desk nestled in an alcove in front of a large window overlooking a garden. She opened one of the drawers and rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a folded map. “Here, this should work, I think. It’s from a year or two ago, but it should be good for practice.”

Cooper grinned and took the map from her. “You’re awesome, Mom. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek and headed out of the parlor.

When he’d locked himself into his room once more, he opened the map, spreading it out across his bed. Then he grabbed the pendants again, letting them swing over it. The spinning started off slow, then sped up before the crystal wrenched itself from his hand and thunked on a spot on the map. He smirked as he examined the map, then he grabbed a red pen from his desk and circled the spot on the map where the crystal lay.

“Bingo.”

* * *

Kurt spread his moisturizer cream across his cheekbones and began rubbing it into his skin. HIs father had already left to pick up his girlfriend, Carole, for a date, so Kurt was lucky enough to have the house to himself. He intended to curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watch TIVO-ed episodes of America’s Top Model as soon as he finished his skin care routine.

So, when he heard the doorbell ring, he scowled, wondering who would dare to disturb his peace. “Rachel Berry, I swear if that’s you wanting to dissect the Warblers performance again...” He sighed and headed downstairs, his irritation increasing as the doorbell rang again. “Okay, okay! I’m coming!”

As soon as he opened the door, his irritation morphed into excitement. He’d know those dashing cheekbones, stunning blue eyes, and dazzlingly bright white teeth anywhere. “You’re the Free Credit Report commercial guy!” he exclaimed.

The man’s eyebrows lifted and then he flashed a bright grin. “That’s me! I take it you’re a fan?” He offered his hand. “Cooper Anderson.”

Kurt perked up as he shook Cooper’s hand. “Anderson? You wouldn’t... This is probably stupid, but you don’t happen to be related to Blaine, are you?”

He could’ve sworn Cooper’s smile dimmed a fraction, but then Cooper laughed, his smile just as bright as it had been. “Yes, actually. He’s my little brother. You know him?” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t I see you at Dalton the other day?”

Kurt blushed and nodded. “Blaine was kind enough to show me around the school.” He shot Cooper a curious look. “Are you looking for Blaine? He’s not here.”

Cooper shook his head. “Actually, no. I was looking for you.”

Kurt blinked, a startled expression crossing his face. “Me?” He hesitated a moment, licking his lips. “Would you like to come in?”

Cooper nodded, smiling. “Yes, please.” He hadn’t really thought through what he would do when Kurt answered the door. The other items he’d needed for the spell had been easily obtained through shopkeepers; he hadn’t had to ask the actual creatures for bits of their person. He hoped asking Kurt for a blood sample wouldn’t be too weird.

Kurt stepped aside and motioned Cooper into the house. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” he asked, leading Cooper into the living room and motioning toward the couch.

Cooper shook his head as he sat down. “No thank you. I’ve actually come to you because... I need a favor.”

Kurt lifted his eyebrows and sat down in the recliner adjacent to the couch. “Oh?”

Cooper smiled and nodded. “I need a vial of blood.”

Out of all the things that might’ve come out of Cooper’s mouth, that had not been something Kurt was even remotely expecting, and he openly gaped at the man. “I beg your pardon?”

Cooper coughed. “Okay, maybe I should’ve explained myself first. My father and I are trying to cure a debilitating disease that’s affecting supernatural creatures, and the final component we need is the blood of a werewolf.”

Kurt stiffened, his body tense. “So why come to me? I can’t help you.” Inwardly, he felt panicked, wondering how Cooper knew.

Cooper arched an eyebrow. “Well, I did a locator spell for a werewolf and it pointed here.”

Kurt scoffed and stood up, stalking toward the kitchen. He needed caffeine or something to calm his nerves. Even just the motion of making a beverage would help. “Then your locator spell is faulty. There are no werewolves in this house.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Try the Sutherlands next door. They’re aggressive enough.”

Cooper narrowed his eyes. “My locator spells are _definitely_ not faulty. And look, I’m not trying to expose you. I know werewolves like to stay hidden, and I would never try to force you out into the open. I’m trying to help you.”

Kurt frowned. “Right. Because there’s a terrible disease plaguing supernaturals. Only I haven’t heard anything about this so-called disease. There have been no reports, no outbreaks.”

Cooper snorted. “I thought you weren’t a werewolf? What would a mere human know about what goes on in the supernatural community? It’s not like something like that would be splashed across the news headlines. It’s been kept quiet.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes and then scoffed again. “Well, I can’t help you.”

Cooper frowned as he watched Kurt walk into the kitchen, standing up and following after him. “Look, deny it all you want, but I know you’re a werewolf. The locator spell doesn’t make mistakes, and I can’t take no for an answer. You seem like a nice kid, but you don’t know my father. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. If you had to deal with him, it would be much, _much_ worse for you.”

Kurt frowned, turning away from the counter. “What are you saying?”

Cooper licked his lips. “I really hate to do this, Kurt, but I can’t leave here without your blood.”

Kurt took a step back, his brows knitting together, his back one solid line of tension. “Excuse me?” He scowled, shifting to his right in a move that placed the center island counter squarely between them, affording him some protection. “I think you need to leave. Now.” He felt a small measure of pride that his voice had a hard edge to it instead of the tremor he’d felt sure would be in it. He could feel the wolf side of him getting agitated, and if he’d been able to see his reflection, he would’ve noticed his eyes glowing an unnatural blue.

He also took great pride in the fact that Cooper seemed unnerved, and Kurt felt his upper lip curl back, baring his teeth, as Cooper lifted his hands, palms facing outward.

Cooper’s voice was even, his eyes locked on Kurt’s. “Listen, Kurt, I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re not leaving me much choice.” He took a step forward, hesitating as Kurt let out a low growl that made the hairs on the back of Cooper’s neck stand on end.

“Leave. Now. Before _you’re_ the one getting hurt,” Kurt growled, his nostrils flaring and his face contorting into a menacing grimace as he tried to contain the wolf fighting to break free and attack the _threat_.

Cooper gulped audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Taking another step closer, he maintained eye contact began muttering what sounded like gibberish to Kurt.

Kurt frowned, confusion settling into his features. “What are you-” He blinked and shook his head against the sudden fuzziness he felt creeping into his senses, glaring at the man. “What are you doing?”

Copper’s brows furrowed as he began to chant louder, the strain of what he was doing evident on his face. He narrowed his eyes, and Kurt blinked, sluggishness seeping into his limbs. He staggered forward a step, fighting to keep his eyes open, then crashed down to his knees, hands falling limply at his sides. He shot Cooper another confused look, his mouth trying to form words.

With a final whine, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell forward, slumping against the tiles.

Cooper’s shoulders sagged, exhaustion bowing his back, and he collapsed to his knees beside Kurt’s prone body, panting heavily. He sniffed, feeling wetness on his lips, and he reached up, swiping at it. When he drew his fingers away, he was only mildly surprised to find them stained red — a nosebleed. Casting that sleeping spell had taken a lot out of him. He honestly hadn’t even been too sure he could do it.

He exhaled heavily and laid two fingers on Kurt’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When he found one, weak but steady, he breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it up his nose. With his other hand, he drew a vial and syringe from his messenger bag. He only needed a small sample of blood, and his hand only shook a little as he slid the needle into Kurt’s arm.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the unconscious boy. “Look, you’re probably a great kid — Blainey really seems to be smitten, you know. Don’t blame him, okay? He doesn’t know anything about-” He stopped, sighing. “Oh, why am I telling you this, anyway? You can’t hear me.”

He managed to extract the needle from Kurt’s arm without feeling too queasy, and he capped the vial, tucking it away into his bag. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. “Mission accomplished.”

He pulled out his cell phone, sending off a quick confirmation text to his father that he’d gotten the blood. He raked his fingers through his hair as he glanced down at Kurt’s prone body, wondering what to do with him. He couldn’t just leave him there, sprawled out on the kitchen floor — that would be way too suspicious. Maybe he could carry him into the living room, arrange him on the couch and make it look like he’d fallen asleep.

He’d just decided on that plan and was crouching down to lift Kurt up in his arms when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the text message was from his father, and he frowned as he read the words aloud. “‘Good work, son. Change of plans. Bring the wolf back here?’ What?” He reread the message twice to make sure he’d gotten it right, and then stared down at Kurt’s body.

He’d told his father he’d already gotten the blood. Why would he suddenly switch things up and tell Cooper to bring the kid back to the house? They only needed blood for the spell.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he typed out a questioning reply text to his father but hesitated just before sending it. His father probably had a perfectly good reason as to why he’d decided to have Cooper bring Kurt back to the house.

“Maybe the spell wasn’t specific on how much blood we need, and he thinks we might need more than I got,” he muttered as he jerked his fingers through his hair again, for once not caring that it was getting mussed up in the process. He deleted the text he’d been about to send to his father and just sent back a quick ‘okay.’ He felt his stomach churn with uneasiness; he hadn’t really signed onto this venture with kidnapping in mind, but taking Kurt was much easier than dealing with his father’s wrath if he failed.

So, with great effort — seriously, the kid looked waifish, but he was solid muscle — Cooper picked Kurt up and stumbled out of the house, unceremoniously dropping Kurt onto the back seat of his car. For half a second, he considered stashing Kurt in the trunk, but he wasn’t _that_ heartless. Instead, he grabbed a blanket out of the trunk and shook it out, draping it over Kurt to hopefully ward off suspicion in case he got stopped. _‘What’s that, officer? My buddy in the back? Oh, no, he’s sick. Serious chills. I’m rushing him to the hospital,’_ he heard himself saying to the imaginary cop who’d just pulled him over for driving unusually slowly.

He blanched at the thought, shaking his head, and slid into the driver’s seat. At the last second, he remembered the handkerchief he’d stuffed up his nose to staunch the bleeding, and he yanked it out, grimacing when he saw the ugly red splotch. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the nosebleed had stopped, and he folded the used handkerchief up, stuffing it in his pocket.

Then he cranked up the engine and drove off, making sure to stay right on the speed limit. He really didn’t want to get in more trouble than he might already be in.

* * *

Blaine fidgeted in front of his mirror, glaring at his reflection. “Just call him,” he instructed. “Just pick up your phone and call him. He’s cute. He’s funny. He’s-”

His confidence deflated as he recalled the way that Kurt had acted the last time he’d seen him, remembering how upset Kurt had been over the thing with Karofsky. Okay, so maybe calling him up and asking him out on a date wasn’t such a good idea. He was going through an incredibly rough emotional patch. He needed a friend more than a boyfriend, right?

...Right.

So maybe he could call Kurt up and just offer to hang out. There was no harm in that, right?

The decision made, he grabbed his phone off his dresser and scrolled through his contacts, bringing up Kurt’s entry. He chewed his lip anxiously as he watched for the call to connect.

* * *

Cooper nearly jumped out of his skin when _Teenage Dream_ began playing seemingly out of nowhere, and he jerked the steering wheel back to the right to return himself to his own lane.

“Sorry!” he managed over the blaring horn of the car he’d almost sideswiped. He pulled over on the side of the road, frowning as he glanced in the back seat. Thankfully, Kurt was still out cold, but he apparently had a cell phone on him somewhere. Cooper sighed and put the car in park, getting out and opening the rear driver’s side door. Sticking his head into the backseat area, he grimaced and pulled back the blanket, shoving his hand into Kurt’s right front pocket.

Luck must’ve decided to smile on him, because his fingers curled around something solid and plastic, and he yanked it out of Kurt’s pocket, straightening. As soon as he saw the name on the caller ID though, he realized that “luck” really was a cruel mistress.

The screen proclaimed “BLAINE <3” as the caller, and Cooper felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach as he hurriedly stabbed the _Ignore_ button, cutting the pop tune off in mid-note. He shoved the phone into his pocket and shut the door, crawling back into the driver’s seat.

For a few long minutes, he just sat there, his fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel, his stomach churning and a foul taste in his mouth. Eventually, he felt calm enough to attempt driving again, and he put the car in drive, signaling and checking his mirrors before pulling onto the road and continuing on home.

He winced when he saw Blaine’s car in the driveway and hurriedly sent off a panicked text to his father. What was he going to do? The way Cooper’s fortune was going, sneaking Kurt into the house without Blaine seeing would be next to impossible — the house was three stories, but Blaine could be anywhere.

His phone buzzed and he breathed out a sigh of relief as he saw his father’s reply.

_‘Take the wolf down to the cellar. Use the outside entrance around back. Don’t worry about your brother.’_

Cooper scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Kurt was still out. Lugging Kurt’s body around to the back entrance into the cellar wouldn’t be easy, and Cooper sighed at the thought. “No sense wasting time,” he grumbled, crawling out of the car and opening the back door. “Aren’t we supposed to have servants to do the legwork?”

He managed to carry Kurt around the side of the house and down into the cellar without any major catastrophes — stopping to catch his breath once or twice didn’t count — and he deposited Kurt onto a futon tucked into the corner.

“I hope you plan to secure him somehow so that he can’t escape.”

Cooper let out a startled yell, then an embarrassed cough as he spun to face his father. “Dad, I thought you were distracting Blaine.”

Ethan shrugged. “Turns out I didn’t have to — your brother left shortly after I received your text. Said he was going out to meet a friend.” He turned a disdainful eye toward Kurt. “That’s the wolf?”

Cooper nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.” He frowned, glancing at his father. “Are you _sure_ I needed to bring him back here? He’s Blaine’s friend, and Blaine’s going to know something’s up when Kurt doesn’t return any of his calls.”

Ethan made a dismissive motion with his hand as he walked toward the futon. “Don’t worry about that; I’ll take care of your brother.”

Cooper frowned. “What are you going to do?”

Ethan’s eyes glinted with coldness, his voice hard as steel. “I said _don’t worry about it_ , Cooper. Now, secure him before he wakes up and tries to escape.”

Cooper sighed and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He started to grab some rope coiled up and hanging from a hook on the wall, but he hesitated as his father snorted. He shot a questioning look over his shoulder.

Ethan shook his head. “He’ll break right out of that. You need something stronger.” He waved his hand, speaking gibberish, and a silver filigree chain about six feet in length appeared in Cooper’s hands. “Bind his hands and feet with that.”

Cooper sighed and nodded as he wrapped one end of the chain three times around Kurt’s wrists, using magic to fuse the end to a section of chain binding Kurt’s wrists, then he repeated the steps on Kurt’s ankles. “There.”

Ethan looked pleased at his son’s handiwork. “Excellent. Now bring the wolf’s blood. We have a spell to cast.”

Cooper nodded and followed his father to the stairs, throwing a hesitant glance over his shoulder at the futon where Kurt lay on his stomach, hands bound at the small of his back. Cooper hated to question his father, but he had a bad feeling about all of this.

* * *

Blaine frowned, tapping his fingers against his steering wheel; he was sitting in his car in the driveway of his house, having just returned from searching for Kurt. The other boy hadn’t been at the Lima Bean and when Blaine had called his phone, it’d still been going to voicemail. He’d only known Kurt a short time, but he couldn’t recall such a huge gap of time between texts. He didn’t have another number for Kurt though, and he didn’t know where Kurt lived, so driving by his house wasn’t going to happen. He just hoped that jock from Kurt’s school hadn’t gotten a hold of Kurt and made good on his threat if Kurt had told anyone what happened.

Blaine shook his head quickly to dispel that awful thought. Kurt was fine, he was sure of it — he was just overreacting. He just had to find Kurt, but how?

The idea struck him so suddenly, and he felt like such an idiot for not thinking of it sooner, bouncing the heel of his hand off his forehead. “Oh, you _dummy_! You’re a _mage_ — cast a _spell_!”

He grinned and got out of his car, rushing into the house. Seeing his father and brother walking up the stairs leading down to the cellar, he frowned, confused. “Hey, Dad, Cooper.”

He wasn’t surprised when his father acknowledged him with just a nod and continued heading toward the staircase, but the startled look that crossed Cooper’s face did give him pause.

“Hey, Blainey!” Cooper’s voice went high and reedy, a bright smile plastered on his face.

Blaine frowned, furrowing his brow. “Are you okay?”

Cooper nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, of course! Why would you think otherwise?” He stepped close and slung his arm around Blaine’s shoulders, steering his brother toward the front door. “Hey, can you run an errand for me?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I was actually thinking that I would go upstairs. Are you finished with my amethyst? I need it for a spell.”

Cooper laughed lightly and nodded. “Yeah, sure, but first, I need you to run uptown for me.”

Blaine sighed and shook his head. “Can it wait? This locator spell is kind of important, Cooper. My friend Kurt’s not answering his phone and I’m afraid something bad might’ve happened to him.”

Cooper came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening. “W-what? What would make you think that, Blainey?”

Blaine hadn’t thought his brother’s voice could get any thinner than it had been before, and he shot his brother a concerned frown. “Kurt’s been bullied by this kid at school, and I’m just worried that the kid has made good on his threats.” He blinked; he could’ve sworn he’d just heard Cooper sigh with relief, his shoulders deflating. “Cooper, you are acting _really_ weird. Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

Cooper’s lips curled but Blaine couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace. “Oh yeah, Blainey, I’m fine.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t acting fine.” He stared at his brother for another moment or two, then shook his head and sighed. “Never mind. Can I have my amethyst back or what?” He frowned a bit, peering at his brother. Was that sweat beading up on Cooper’s forehead?

Apparently, Cooper thought so too, because he reached up and swiped his finger across his forehead, trying to make it seem casual. “Yeah, okay, fine. Get your stupid crystal; it’s on my dresser.”

Blaine shot his brother another odd look before heading upstairs to Cooper’s room. Going inside, he glanced around, smiling when he caught sight of his crystal on the dresser, just as Cooper had said. He walked over and picked it up, untangling it from a silver chain.

His fingers brushed an oddly shaped pendant resting next to the crystal and his smile slipped from his face as he recognized it — a silver bullet. And not just any silver bullet — Blaine himself had a nearly identical necklace stuffed in the back of his sock drawer.

Why had Cooper brought his necklace out of hiding, and why was it tangled with Blaine’s scrying crystal? Blaine frowned; had Cooper been using the necklace as the focusing object to aid his search? That made no sense; what could the necklace help him find?

Confused, he grabbed his crystal, then hesitated, his hand hovering over the necklace. He couldn’t help but wonder if the necklace’s sudden reappearance had anything to do with why Cooper had been acting so weird.

With that thought in mind, he gave a firm nod and grabbed the necklace, tucking the crystal into his pocket and heading back downstairs. “Hey, Cooper?”

He sighed when he reached the ground floor and saw no sign of his brother. Turning to go back upstairs, he paused, one hand on the railing. From the stairs leading down to the cellar, he could’ve sworn he heard a noise.

He paused at the top of the stairs, staring down into the darkness. “Cooper? Are you down there?” He frowned as he heard what sounded like a growl, followed by scratching, and he hesitated, throwing a worried glance over his shoulder.

Chewing at his bottom lip, Blaine glanced back down the cellar stairs. The growling and scratching sounds had become louder, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The rational part of his brain knew that he should go find his father or brother or _somebody_ , but instead, he found himself flicking on the overhead light, illuminating the path downward. At the bottom of the stairs awaited another light switch, which would light up the cellar, and Blaine hesitantly made his way down the stairs.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he flicked the switch to turn on the overhead lights and gasped, his eyes widening.

In the middle of the old futon his brother had taken to college lay a wolf, its fur a startling white. The wolf thrashed around, its teeth bared and its brilliant blue eyes blazing with anger. Blaine could see the wolf’s feet were wrapped in silver chains, and his eyes dropped to the tattered remains of clothes hanging from the wolf’s clothes — clothes that looked strangely familiar.

The last time he’d seen those clothes, Kurt had been wearing them in the park.

Blaine’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open as the wolf turned its head, baring its teeth. Blaine gulped, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he managed, keeping his tone soft and even. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He shuffled forward a step, his eyes never leaving the wolf’s.

As the wolf let out a low warning growl, Blaine came to a halt, his breath catching in his chest, and he quickly took a step back. That seemed to calm the wolf, and it ducked its head, letting out a plaintive whine.

Blaine frowned, uncertainty keeping him still. “I can’t- I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t help you if you won’t let me get close to you.” He let out a frustrated sigh, his hand rising with the urge to jam his fingers through his hair, but he let it fall back uselessly by his side when he remembered the gel.

His friend’s name hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually speak it — not even when he looked into the wolf’s eyes again, noting the brilliant cerulean shade. That color alone brought to mind thoughts of Kurt, but that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Blaine’s eyes flicked downward to the necklace still gripped tightly in his hand, the smashed bullet dangling from the chain. He’d always thought his grandfather was crazy...but had he _actually_ killed a werewolf?

Blaine swallowed heavily and lifted his head, looking at the wolf again. “Kurt.” His voice shook slightly as he addressed the wolf, and he jutted his chin out, looking the wolf squarely in the eyes. “Kurt, if that’s you, if you can understand me...” His voice faltered, uncertainty creeping into his features as his eyes darted around, desperately seeking the words that seemed to elude him.

Finally, he took a deep breath, swiveling his gaze back to the wolf. “Kurt, if you can understand me, wag your tail.”

He felt foolish even _thinking_ the words; speaking them aloud brought a flushed heat to his cheeks, and he sucked in the inside of his cheek, biting down on the flesh.

It seemed eons passed before the wolf’s tail gave a weak twitch, and Blaine’s heart leapt into his throat.

“No way,” he breathed, quickly stuffing the bullet necklace into his pocket.

He gathered up his nerve and inched forward, keeping his hands up and palms outward where the wolf could see them. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I just want to get a better look at the chain.”

The wolf lowered its head, its eyes tracking Blaine’s movements as he slid forward. When Blaine reached the futon, he casually brought his leg up, resting his knee on the mattress. He reached out, tracing his fingers along the chain. It looked delicate with the filigree design, but it had weight to it, and when Blaine gave it a hard tug, it barely yielded.

He tugged on it as hard as he could and sighed when it failed to break. “So it’s been magically reinforced,” he muttered. He swallowed against the sudden rise of bile in his mouth; he’d seen his father and brother coming out of the cellar earlier — had one of them cast a spell on the chain?

Blaine snorted almost as soon as the thought occurred to him. He could easily dismiss Cooper as the spellcaster — the magic required to reinforce even a shoestring was beyond his brother’s grasp. But that still left his father.

Blaine wasn’t naive; his father wasn’t a nice person, but surely even _he_ couldn’t be vile enough to hold another being against its own will?

He glanced at the wolf, meeting its sad eyes, and he felt a pang in his heart. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He had no idea how the wolf had ended up in his cellar, but he had a feeling that it hadn’t been by choice, and he felt sick knowing that his father and brother might’ve hurt his friend.

He absentmindedly reached out, stroking his hand over the wolf’s fur, and he blinked when the wolf relaxed and lay down on its side, seeming to deflate a little as its tension eased. Blaine spent a few minutes just petting the wolf’s side, then grew brave and moved his hand up to scratch behind the wolf’s ear.

A lopsided grin spread across his face as the wolf’s eyes closed, its ear perking up. He continued to scratch behind the wolf’s ear and even moved his hand forward, stroking his finger down the wolf’s snout. He slid his hand down, rubbing the wolf’s belly and grinning when its tail thumped against the futon.

Then he realized that he was basically petting his new friend, and he blushed hotly, jerking his hand back. “I...I should work on getting that chain unhooked.”

He brought his hand up, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. The chain looked pretty straightforward; he hadn’t sensed any booby traps when he’d held it earlier. He knew a couple of spells that would help him break it easily, and he licked his lips, wrapping his hand around the thin chain.

He whispered the words for a fire spell and felt his palm heat. Almost immediately, electricity buzzed along the length of the chain; tendrils zapped both Blaine and the wolf, who yelped in unison.

Blaine jerked his hand back immediately and shook it in an attempt to get rid of lingering jabs of pain. He shot an apologetic look at the wolf, whose teeth were bared again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Blaine?”

He jumped, startled, as the sound of his brother’s voice — high and panicked — came down the stairs. He thought he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he balked, scrambling off the futon. “Uhhhh, I’m fine, Cooper! Just, um, zapped myself. There’s some, uh, loose wiring down here, and I didn’t see it.”

He winced, knowing the lie sounded weak, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He held his breath, chewing his lip.

“I thought I heard a second yelp.” Suspicion had joined the panic in Cooper’s voice, and the footsteps continued down the stairs. “Blaine, get out of the cellar before Dad finds you down here.”

Blaine gulped and squared his shoulders, scowling as Cooper appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He saw his brother suck in a breath, his eyes widening, and Blaine’s face darkened.

“What’s going on, Cooper?” he demanded. “Why is there a werewolf in our cellar?”

Cooper winced and scuttled forward, grabbing Blaine’s shoulder in a tight grip, his fingers digging into the muscle. “Would you shut _up_?” he hissed as he threw a frantic glance over his shoulder. “God, you’re an _idiot_ , Blainey. I was trying to keep you away from this. Shit, Dad’s gonna — You have to get out of here, okay?”


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine let out a pained yelp as Cooper’s hand gripped the back of his neck, and they both froze as the wolf growled. Blaine gulped, glancing at his brother. “I think you’d better let me go, Cooper.”

Cooper frowned deeply, his eyes flicking to the wolf. “He’s chained. There’s no way he can reach me. Besides, _you_ need to be more afraid of _Dad_ finding you down here — he will flip his shit, Blaine. I’m not even kidding.” He started toward the stairs, tugging on Blaine’s arm.

Blaine frowned and tried to dig his heels in to stop his forward movement. “Not until you tell me what’s going on, Cooper. Why is there a werewolf chained in our cellar, and is it really my friend Kurt?”

Cooper came to an abrupt halt, all the color draining from his face, and Blaine took advantage of his momentary surprise to yank his arm out of his slackened grip.

Blaine stumbled back, glaring at his brother. “It _is_ Kurt, isn’t it? What the _hell_ , Cooper?”

Cooper flinched and whirled to face his brother, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to do it, okay? I didn’t sign up for kidnapping, and then Dad told me to bring him back to the house, and I didn’t know what he wanted with Kurt — I mean, I’d already taken—”

“Cooper, what is going on down there? I told you, there is a limited window of opportunity for this spell, and it is quickly closing, son.”

Both Anderson boys jerked to attention, startled by the deep, booming sound of their father’s voice charging down the stairs. Even the wolf felt troubled by the sound, its fur standing on end as it bared its teeth and growled again.

“Has the boy _shifted_? I knew I should’ve cast that sleeping spell myself.”

There came the sound of a heavy sigh, followed by a foreboding footstep, and Blaine and Cooper both shouted “No!” Their eyes widened as they shot each other startled glances.

“Blaine?” Their father’s voice had taken on a hard edge as the footsteps descended down the stairs, and Cooper quickly shoved Blaine into a nearby closet, slamming the door shut.

“No, Dad!” Cooper exclaimed, his voice strained as he tried to suppress panic. “I mean, yes, technically. I was watching a video of one of his performances so that I could critique it for him.” He grinned brightly and walked over to the stairs just as his father came down them. “Come on, Dad, let’s go cast that spell!”

From inside the closet, Blaine frowned, his head spinning. Spell? What spell could they possibly be casting, and what had Cooper taken from Kurt? Why did his father need to keep Kurt a prisoner?

He heard the sounds of their footsteps retreating as they headed back upstairs, and he felt his stomach churn, hysteria making his heart thump faster in his chest. Whatever was going on, he had a feeling it wasn’t good; why else would they be so secretive?

When the sound of footsteps faded, he cautiously opened the door and peeked out into the cellar. The wolf still lay on the futon, all four feet lashed together by the silver chain, and it thrashed around again, biting at it. It whimpered when it got zapped again, and Blaine frowned.

“Hey, hey, stop. You’re just going to keep hurting yourself.” He reached out his hand, petting the wolf’s back, and the wolf seemed to settle down almost immediately, turning pitiful eyes toward Blaine, who bit his lower lip.

He knew he had to find some way to break the chain before the wolf really did hurt itself, but he was at a loss about how to disable the booby trap spell. He had no idea of how to cast a spell like that, and trying to create a miniature rain cloud that would hopefully short out the circuit only resulted in giving the wolf and him a mild electrocution that made the wolf growl, the smell of singed fur lingering in the air.

Blaine scratched his temple and leaned in closer to inspect the chain, grinning when he found a marred spot in the links. Apparently, he’d been able to do damage in the brief time he’d held the chain before getting shocked — it was minimal, yes, but damage nonetheless.

The minutes crawled by, allowing a hare-brained idea to gain more footing in Blaine’s thoughts, and he chewed at his lip. The zap hadn’t been _that_ painful, and he’d obviously damaged the chain, so why couldn’t he just try to burn through the chain in short bursts, however long he could stand the pain?

Taking a deep breath, he whispered the words to set his palm on fire again, waiting a minute or two for the reddish-orange glow to turn white. It still marveled him that he couldn’t feel any heat in his palm, even though it looked as if his hand was made of molten glass. He shot the wolf an encouraging grin and reached out, closing his fingers around the chain.

This time, he was better prepared for the zap of electricity that crawled over his fingers, sending pain sparking up his arm, and he didn’t immediately jerk his hand back. He gritted his teeth against the pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

After what seemed like an eternity but was really only a matter of minutes, Blaine gave a pained yelp and dropped the chain, jerking his hand back and stumbling backwards. He swooned and collapsed, landing hard on his butt. His entire body felt as if it was buzzing, and he could still feel electricity arcing over his body.

The wolf whined, putting its head down on the futon and gazing at Blaine with sad eyes. Blaine gave it a tiny smile that he hoped was encouraging. “I’m okay,” he muttered, trying to shake the fuzziness out of his head.

When he felt able, he shifted until he settled on his knees and crawled forward. His heart sank when he saw the section of chain was only burned a quarter of the way through, and he sighed. “Just a few more times should do it,” he said, glancing at the wolf.

The wolf whined and covered its eyes with one paw, and Blaine couldn’t help but laugh.

By the time he managed to burn the chain enough that it snapped in two, his entire body tingled and he collapsed heavily to the floor, hands slightly smoking. He heard a distressed bark and he opened his mouth to respond that he was okay, but the edges of his vision were already going dark, and he blissfully succumbed to the blackness, going limp.

* * *

Sounds slowly filtered into Blaine’s consciousness. At first, they were garbled and muted, almost as if his head was underwater. He shook his head a little, unleashing a jangling pain that traveled over his entire body. Now he could almost start to pick out individual sounds.

“-aine? Bla-! Oh my g- -ease don’t be dead!”

He knew that voice, even with the hysterical undertone distorting it.

“Kurt?” he croaked, forcing his eyes open. He immediately squeezed them shut as the garish lights overhead sent pain jabbing through his head.

“You _idiot_!” Kurt snapped, his voice bordering on screeching. “What did you think was going to happen when you willingly electrocuted yourself?”

Blaine managed a weak, sheepish smile. “Okay, so that wasn’t my brightest idea.” His throat felt scratchy, his voice rough, and truth be told, he ached all over his body. “You’re free though, right?”

Kurt growled. “Not the _point_! You could’ve been _killed_!”

Blaine shook his head slowly. “No, I’m fine. Just gimme a minute. We’ve got to get you out of here before my dad comes back.” He took a deep, calming breath and opened his eyes, only squinting for a brief second against the harsh light. His eyes focused on Kurt’s face, and he smiled, a warm feeling settling in his chest as he saw the worry in Kurt’s eyes. “I’m okay, Kurt.”

Kurt breathed a soft sigh, some of the worry in his eyes fading. Blaine sat up, relieved that his head only spun a little, and he winced as he glanced down at his hands, which were reddened with minor burns.

“That looks really painful.”

Blaine lifted his head, eyes locking on Kurt. “It’s not so bad. Can you help me up? There’s a sink in the corner.”

It wasn’t until they were standing side-by-side at the basin sink, cold water pouring over Blaine’s injured hands, that either of them remembered Kurt was naked. Blaine might not even have noticed then if Kurt hadn’t sprung away from him, his hands immediately dropping to cover his crotch.

Naturally, Blaine’s eyes involuntarily tracked the movement and he felt his cheeks grow warm as he realized that he could see—

He immediately jerked his eyes up to the ceiling, his cheeks burning.

“Um, there are some old clothes in the closet. They’re probably out of style, but I’m sure there’s something in there that would fit you.”

When he heard Kurt shuffle away from the sink, Blaine relaxed and lowered his gaze back down to his hands. The pain seemed to have receded, so he used his elbow to turn off the faucet and shook his hands free of excess water. He winced at the thought of rubbing a rough towel across the sensitive skin, so he just stood there, letting his hands drip dry. He risked a glance over his shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the closet door open.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Some jeans and a sweater,” came Kurt’s muffled reply, and a moment later, he walked out of the closet, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a cream and white striped sweater that hung off one shoulder.

Blaine’s eyes widened and he felt like he’d swallowed his tongue — all he could do was make a choked noise. He was pretty sure he’d seen that sweater worn by his mother a time or two, but it had definitely never looked as good on her as it did on Kurt.

Kurt’s brow furrowed as he moved forward, his hand reaching out to brush Blaine’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Blaine nodded dumbly, trying to get his mouth to work, and he took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Peachy. Um...” He glanced around, biting his lip. He needed ointment for the burns on his hands, but their first aid kits were all upstairs; what if they ran into his father or Cooper? “We should get you out of here. There’s an exit to the outside down here; it leads to a path that goes around the side of the house to the driveway.”

“You really need to get something on your-”

“I’m fine, Kurt, honestly, I-”

“-hands. Those burns look really b-”

“They look worse than they are, I swear.” Blaine reached out to grasp Kurt’s elbow and hissed in pain as even the soft material of the sweater scraping across his palm caused agony to jag up his arm.

Kurt frowned, shooting him a disapproving glare. “You were saying?”

Blaine let his hand drop back to his side, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Okay, fine, but all the first aid kits are upstairs. What if we run into my dad?”

Kurt pressed his lips together in a grim line. “I’m more worried about your brother. He’s the one who kidnapped me.”

Blaine winced at the bitter tone in Kurt’s voice, and he sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He could practically see their friendship disintegrating into a cloud of smoke and embers. Once this ordeal was over, Kurt would probably never want to see him again, and Blaine couldn’t really say that he blamed him. “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I don’t know what’s going on, but I swear I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know you were—” He trailed off, the word dying on his lips.

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes. “You can say it, you know. I’m a werewolf and you’re clearly a witch.”

Blaine scoffed. “Excuse you, I am a _mage_. ‘Witch’ is a sexist term coined by Hollywood to promote a heavily sexualized image of female mages.”

Kurt’s eyebrows lifted. “Fine — _mage_ , whatever. But the point remains: it’s okay to _say_ it, Blaine. The cat’s out of the bag now anyway.” He grimaced. “Speaking of which, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody.”

Blaine nodded. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me, I promise. I don’t know what’s gotten into my father or brother, but I swear, I’m not... like they’re being.”

Kurt’s face softened as he nodded. “I know.”

He stood, rising in one graceful, fluid motion that made Blaine envious of his control over his limbs. Blaine’s rise was a lot more gangly and awkward, since he couldn’t brace his hands on anything without pain radiating through his body.

“We’ll have to take the risk of getting caught,” Kurt said after another critical examination of Blaine’s hands. “Those burns really do need to be treated.”

Blaine scrunched up his nose and sighed. “Fine. Well, we don’t have too far to go, really. When you go up the stairs, at the end of the hall, there’s a bathroom. There’s a first aid kit in the medicine cabinet.”

Kurt nodded, casting a hesitant glance at Blaine. “Should I go first? It is _your_ house.”

Blaine gave him a blank look. “Well, I can’t really use my hands, so...”

It took a second before understanding dawned on Kurt’s face, and he shot Blaine a sheepish smile. “Oh. Right.” He hesitated a second, glancing at Blaine, then shook his head and turned, heading up the stairs.

Blaine frowned — for a moment there, it had looked like Kurt had wanted to say something. He shrugged it off, figuring there was no point in asking. If Kurt had wanted him to know what he was going to say, he would’ve just said it.

Luckily, they made it to the bathroom without any awkward incidents, and Kurt located the first aid kit. In no time at all, Blaine’s hands were loosely bandaged in gauze, and Kurt smiled as he watched Blaine swallow two Aleve.

“So, now what?”

Blaine looked up at the question, frowning slightly. “I guess we get you out of here. Well, I mean, I can’t really drive you, so I guess I could call you a cab.”

Kurt rolled his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest. “What about your father and brother? Aren’t you even the least bit curious about why they needed my blood?”

Blaine felt his mouth go dry at the expectant look Kurt shot him, and he forced himself to swallow. “I-I, uh, well, the thought had occurred to me, yes, but I don’t, um, I don’t really know what-”

“What if they’re doing something evil?” Kurt interrupted. “Wouldn’t you want to stop them?”

Blaine felt his face grow warm. “I-I’m just a _kid_ , Kurt. What can I do?”

Kurt arched an eyebrow, his face so full of judgment that sweat broke out on Blaine’s forehead. Blaine shook his head, starting to reach up to brush his hand across his brow; he winced as he caught a glimpse of the gauze out of the corner of his eye, and he lowered his hand.

“You don’t know my father, Kurt. You don’t-” Blaine licked his lips, trying to vocalize his terror of his father in such a way that wouldn’t make him look pathetic. When words failed him, he gave a helpless shrug, casting a glance at Kurt.

Kurt must’ve seen the fear in Blaine’s eyes because his face softened and he unfurled his arms, reaching a hand out to rest his fingertips on Blaine’s forearm. “Calm down, okay? I can smell your fear. I get it.”

Blaine blushed, ducking his head. “You can... Wow, that has to be weird.” He studied Kurt for a moment, curiosity etched across his face. “You know, my whole life, I’ve thought that werewolves were just a story adults told kids to scare them. You’re nothing like what I expected.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, snorting. “Yeah, the scary stories tend to ignore the fact that we’re human ninety percent of the month.” He eyed Blaine critically, then visibly relaxed, the tense hunch of his shoulders easing. “You’re not what I pictured, either. You don’t have warts, for one thing.”

Blaine laughed lightly, grinning. “Yeah, again — Hollywood stereotype. The bubbling cauldron thing is true, though.”

Kurt’s lips quirked in a soft smile. “What about wands? Or is that just a Harry Potter thing?”

Blaine shrugged. “It’s mostly just a Harry Potter thing. There are some more complicated spells where it helps to have something to focus the magic, but for the most part, we just speak spells, and no, they don’t have to rhyme.”

Kurt nodded. “Your brother started spouting gibberish at me just before I lost consciousness.”

Blaine grinned. “Yeah, it’s an archaic language used mainly for spell casting. Words have power, and these spells, they’ve been passed down through the generations.” He ducked his head, blushing, as he realized that Kurt was staring at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Um, we should probably-”

He lifted his head, confusion settling on his features when the overhead lights flickered. “Oh, that’s not good.”

Kurt frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Do you hear that?” he asked, a distracted note in his voice.

Blaine’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Kurt. “Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”

Kurt shook his head, stepping toward the door. “It’s a... _whooshing_ sound.”

Blaine swallowed as he followed Kurt to the door. “We should get out of here. Cooper said something about casting a spell, and I don’t know what they’re up to, but we probably don’t want to be around when it happens. If it’s making the lights flicker and kicking up wind, that’s not good. Those are signs of powerful magic.”

He tried to nudge Kurt forward so they could leave the bathroom, and he blinked in surprise as he realized that Kurt had gone unnaturally still, his back a rigid line of tension. “Kurt?”

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and the words ‘I have a bad feeling about this’ hovered right there on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down, a sour taste in his mouth. Whatever was going on, stating the obvious wouldn’t help.

If Kurt’s back hadn’t been turned to Blaine, he might’ve seen the unnatural glint of red that flashed across Kurt’s eyes. Blaine frowned and glanced up as the lights dimmed twice before going out completely, only to return to full brightness seconds later. In the next breath, Kurt’s shoulders suddenly sagged and he blinked, disorientation written across his features as he glanced over his shoulder at Blaine.

“What?”

Blaine glanced at Kurt. “What... just happened? Are you okay?”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine. Why?”

Blaine blinked, lifting his eyebrows. “You went all rigid, like... I don't know. You weren’t answering me, either.”

Kurt pressed his lips together and gave a slow shake of his head. “No, I feel fine. I should... probably go.”

“Right.” Blaine chewed his lower lip as he followed Kurt out of the bathroom, casting a worried glance around in search of his father. He winced when Kurt boldly strode down the hall, his head held high and his shoulders squared. “Hey! What happened to stealth?”

Kurt threw a small smirk over his shoulder. “I’ll call you later, Blaine.” He sauntered out the front door, not even bothering to close it quietly, and Blaine shook his head, wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

Cooper cast a skeptical look around the attic as the rush of wind that had swirled around his father and him died down, leaving papers fluttering lazily to the floor in its wake. “Did we do it?”

Ethan smirked, lowering his hands. “Of course we did. Don’t you feel it, Cooper? That thrum of power? Billions of creatures subjugated to our will, just waiting for our command. It’s... intoxicating.”

Cooper sucked in a startled breath, his spine going cold. “W-wait, what? N-no, we were supposed to be curing...” He trailed off, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “There never was a disease.”

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “It’s a good thing you’ve got such a pretty face, Cooper. You’d never make it in this world if you had to rely on your brain.”

Cooper recoiled, his father’s words stinging, and he frowned. “You lied to me. All those people, you’re just- You can’t just take away their free will like that! That’s-” He clamped his mouth shut as his father glared at him.

“Don’t forget your hand in all of this, Cooper,” Ethan growled. “If it hadn’t been for you collecting the ingredients for the spell, I never could’ve accomplished this.”

Cooper swallowed, feeling the color drain from his face. His father was right; he was an accomplice. “What are you going to do now?”

Ethan chuckled, a cold, sinister sound that sent chills down Cooper’s spine. “Don’t trouble yourself over that, son. You’ve done your part.” He flashed a cold, calculating smile and reached out, laying his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “And don’t mention what occurred here to anyone, do you understand me?”

His hand moved to the back of Cooper’s neck, fingers digging into Cooper’s skin, and Cooper felt a jolt of magic travel down his spine, his body stiffening. He swallowed, one lone tear of frustration welling up in the corner of his eye. He knew a compulsion spell when he felt one. It was the only way his father could ensure that he would keep quiet — well, short of killing him.

His voice sounded hollow to his own ears as he mumbled “I understand, Father.” When Ethan released him, he sagged, shoulders hunching. He felt numbness creeping over his body — he had to undo the spell, but there was no way he was good enough with magic to make that happen, and he couldn’t tell anyone. What was he supposed to _do_?

* * *

Blaine frowned and took out his pocket watch, certain that hours had flown by since the last time he’d checked, and he deflated a little when he saw that it had been only seconds. He sighed and shut the case, slipping the watch back into his pocket. He’d texted Kurt earlier in the day and asked him to meet him for coffee after school. Now, it was a quarter to three and there was still no sign of Kurt.

Dinner at the Anderson house had been strange, to say the least — Blaine had been on edge, watching his brother and father for any discernible sign of what they were up to, Cooper had kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on his plate, not even looking up when Dalisay asked him a question, and Ethan — well, he’d been his usual cold and uninterested self.

Dalisay had been the only one who’d shown confusion, especially when Cooper had asked to be excused despite barely touching his dinner. She’d shot questioning glances at Blaine and Ethan, asking them both if they knew what was wrong with Cooper, and Blaine had mumbled “no” while Ethan just shrugged.

_“Probably just had a bad day,” he’d said._

Blaine sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending off a quick text message to Kurt, asking where he was and if everything was okay. He laid his phone beside his coffee cup and drummed his fingers on the table, waiting.

The longer his phone remained quiet, the more concerned he became, and he frowned, glancing at his watch again. When it came to punctuality, Blaine was certain that Kurt had written the book, so for him to be twenty minutes late... Well, it made Blaine’s skin crawl. What if Cooper had taken Kurt again? What if Kurt was chained up in the cellar again? Blaine’s hands still ached; wrapped up in gauze like they were, he’d never be able to burn through the chains a second time.

He sat up straighter as the bell over the door tinkled, and he felt an intense wave of relief as Kurt scurried through the door and dropped into the seat opposite Blaine.

Kurt huffed out a breathless “Sorry I’m late!” and took a deep breath, setting his bag at his feet. He gave Blaine’s cup a sheepish smile, then looked up at his friend. “Wow, I guess I _am_ late. Let me get you a refill.”

“No, wait, Kurt, you don’t-” Blaine clamped his mouth shut as Kurt darted off to join the queue at the counter, and he sighed, slumping back in his seat. He picked at the edge of the table with his fingernail, glancing toward the queue.

Kurt stood in the queue, examining his fingernails with a bored expression on his face. As the queue advanced, he moved forward, and Blaine stared hard at his back, trying to discern whether or not Kurt was okay. Kurt had been texting him all morning and he hadn’t seemed perturbed. Nothing had been mentioned about being tied up in Blaine’s cellar either; the one time Blaine had tried to bring it up, Kurt had brushed him off.

If Blaine didn’t know any better, he’d almost think the incident had never happened.

Eventually, Kurt returned to the table, setting a cup in front of Blaine before sitting across from him. “There you go — one caramel mocha latte.”

Blaine’s eyes widened as he watched Kurt lick some whipped cream off the top of his own caramel mocha. “Uh, Kurt, you never order this.”

Kurt shrugged. “I decided to be different — live a little.” He grinned and leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “So, my friend Rachel is having a party Friday night. I...” He smiled wider. “I think you should be my date.”

Blaine felt his cheeks grow warm as he grinned slightly. “That sounds fun. And I — I’d love to be your date, Kurt, but I just wanted to ask. I mean, you’re _okay_ , right? After what happened yesterday, I just...” He shook his head, shrugging. “I just want to be sure.”

Kurt took another sip of his drink, licking cream off his lips, and grinned. “Blaine, I’m _fine_. I’d like to avoid meeting your brother in... well, anywhere, but I’m fine.”

Blaine frowned. “I just wish I knew what they were up to. Cooper’s likable — a little dumb and over-critical sometimes, but he’s not _evil_.”

Kurt arched an eyebrow. “And your father?”

Blaine hesitated and furrowed his brow. “He’s... less likable, but I never thought _he_ could be evil, either.” He shook his head and huffed out a breath, leaning over slightly and resting the side of his head against his balled-up hand.

Kurt’s face softened as he sipped his drink and set his cup down. “Okay, look, you’re a mage, right? You have spellbooks.” When Blaine just shot him a blank look, Kurt gave an exasperated sigh. “Can’t you just look through your books until you find a spell that requires-”

He cast a surreptitious glance around before leaning and whispering “ _wolf_ blood?” He straightened back up, clearing his throat. “I mean, there can’t be too many, right?”

Blaine cast a dubious glance at his friend. “I don’t know. That’s a _lot_ of spells to go through, and I don’t even have all the books.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Okay, but clearly your _father_ has the spell in a book somewhere. Couldn’t you look through his books?”

Blaine paled and gulped audibly, his fingers curling around his cup. “L—look through my father’s books? Are you _crazy_? Do you know what he’d _do_ if he caught me?”

Kurt shrugged. “So get a lookout.” He held up his finger, fixing Blaine with a glare. “But not me. No offense, but I’m never stepping foot in your house again, which is a shame because what I saw yesterday? Looked _magnificent_.” He sighed wistfully.

Blaine chuckled softly and shook his head. “No, don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He took a sip of his drink, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea who I can ask.”

* * *

Wes Montgomery scowled, his arms folded across his chest. “You want me to _what_? I thought you asked me over to study, Blaine!”

Blaine flashed a sheepish grin, shrugging slightly. “Oops?” He sat on his bed, socked feet tucked under his legs. “You’re my best friend and the best secret-keeper I know — and _nobody_ can know what I’m doing.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “All the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing it, Blaine. Your father is a respected and well-loved mage; he’s on the Dalton Academy Board of Directors!”

Blaine sighed. “I'm aware of that, Wes, but I’m telling you, he’s up to something! A mage doesn’t just kidnap a teenage boy and steal a blood sample for no reason at all!” He shot a pleading glance at his friend. “ _Please_ , Wes, I need your help. I can’t ask anybody else. Cooper’s in the middle of whatever Dad is up to, and Mom-”

He hesitated, uncertain about how much his mother really knew. “-she’s a variable. I- I don’t know if she’s in on it or not, so it’s best to just leave her out.”

Wes scoffed. “Are you hearing yourself, Blaine? I feel like I’m stuck in a spy thriller — when is somebody going to kick the door down and storm us, guns blazing?” He cast an expectant glance at the door and snorted when nothing happened. “I think you’re overworking yourself. Maybe studying isn’t such a great idea after all. The test can wait; it’s not until Friday. We have plenty of time. I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest.”

He started heading for the door, only to stop short as Blaine practically flung himself off the bed and across the room to plaster himself against the door with a shouted “No!”

Wes’s eyes widened in surprise and he took an involuntary step back, giving Blaine a confused look. “You are _not_ well, Blaine Anderson,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. “You need to lie down and rest. We’ve got Sectionals coming up and you need to be in top form. That’s an order.”

Blaine shook his head, his mouth forming a grim line. “Wes, you don’t understand. I know that my dad is an upstanding member of the magical community, which is why it pains me so much to accuse him like this, but I saw it with my own eyes!” He scrunched up his nose. “Okay, I didn’t see him stealing Kurt’s blood, but I _definitely_ saw Kurt chained down in the cellar.”

Wes furrowed his brow, giving Blaine a skeptical look. “Are you _sure_ you haven’t hit your head recently, Blaine? You took that tumble off your horse during polo practice last week, remember? Maybe it's had lingering effects.”

Blaine sighed and rolled his eyes. “No. This isn’t a delusion, Wes; I’m _fine_.”

Wes frowned, his eyes searching Blaine’s face, then he rubbed his hand over his face. “All right, I’ll stand guard, but I’m just going to repeat that I don’t feel good about this.”

Blaine grinned, relieved. “Your discomfort is noted.” He turned around and opened the door, heading down the hallway.

His father’s study was on the ground floor, behind the staircase. Blaine exhaled as he gingerly twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open. Surprise flitted across his face; he’d expected a ward or protection spell or some kind of safeguard cast over the door.

Stepping inside, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he glanced around, overwhelmed by the amount of bookshelves overflowing with literature that lined the walls. He’d been a small child the last time he’d been in his father’s study unsupervised, and he couldn’t recall ever seeing that many books.

“How am I going to go through all of these to find one spell?” he muttered as he moved over to stand behind his father’s desk. He scratched the side of his head as he took in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in front of him.

Wes shook his head and took a step toward the door. “I have no idea, but good luck.”

Blaine glanced up from scanning the bookshelf at his eye level. “Wait, where are you going? Aren’t you going to help me look through these?”

Wes frowned, shooting a skeptical look over his shoulder. “How exactly do you expect me to keep a lookout if I’m helping you search, Blaine?”

Blaine rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion toward the door. “Fine; go watch the door.” He sighed and scanned his eyes over the titles in front of him, then picked one at random and starting to flip through it.

* * *

Half an hour later, just when Blaine had morosely decided that his search was hopeless and he was never going to find the spell, Wes rushed into the room, hissing, “Your father is coming!” as he shut the door.

Blaine’s heart sank; there was no hope of finding the spell. Then his eyes widened in panic as he realized the only escape route was through the door Wes stood in front of, and if his father was coming down the hall, they were screwed. Any second now, his father was going to walk into the room and demand to know what Blaine was doing.

Blaine startled as Wes snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, and he blinked away the fog penetrating his brain as he saw his friend’s perturbed expression.

“Are you listening to me, Blaine? We have to get out of here. Your father will be pissed if he finds us here, and he’s _coming down the hall right now_!”

They both froze as the door swung open and Ethan entered the room, pausing inside the doorway as he frowned at them, the beginnings of anger creeping into his features.

“Boys,” he said in a voice teeming with barely restrained fury, “what are you doing in my study? Blaine, you know I don’t take kindly to snooping.”

Blaine gulped, offering his father a shaky smile. “I— We weren’t snooping, Dad. We, uh...” He tried not to let his panic show on his face as his brain blanked.

“- needed to borrow this book!” Wes exclaimed as he pried the book out of Blaine’s hand. “We’re doing a research paper on the practical applications of soothsaying, and this book will be a tremendous help.”

Ethan scowled at his son. “Blaine, if you had wanted to borrow a book, you should have just asked.”

Blaine nodded, swallowing. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I would’ve asked but you weren’t here, and I thought we could borrow the book and put it back without you noticing.” He nudged Wes toward the door. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll just... go work on our paper. Thank you, sir.”

Ethan watched them, his eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, Blaine was certain they were about to be punished in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine. To his great surprise, Ethan merely nodded, his face relaxing as he stepped aside and motioned for them to exit.

They wasted no time running out of the room and racing up to Blaine’s room, where they collapsed on his bed. Blaine felt sure his heart was going to burst out of his chest; it seemed to slam into his rib cage.

“Never again, Blaine,” Wes wheezed. “Your father is scary when he gets angry — he was only _glaring_ at us and I thought our gooses were cooked!”

Blaine sighed. “I didn’t find what I was looking for,” he said glumly.

Wes shook his head and sat up, shoving the book in his hand at Blaine. “Well, you’re going to have to find someone else to be your lookout, Blaine. That was quite enough excitement for me. _Now_ can we study?”

Blaine wrinkled his nose and nodded, setting his father’s book on his nightstand.

* * *

Back in his study, Ethan scowled as he scanned his study, looking for signs of anything out of place. He didn’t believe that story about a research paper for one second — Blaine had plenty of books on divination already. Ethan personally thought it was a hokey and pathetic use of magic, but Dalisay came from a long bloodline of soothsayers and prophets, and Blaine had always had a predilection that was made all the more ironic by the boy’s daily occurrences of obliviousness.

No, Blaine had been searching for something, and Ethan had a bad feeling he knew exactly what. There was no doubt in Ethan’s mind that his youngest son had been the one to release the werewolf from his chains; the sight of Blaine’s bandaged hands had been all the confirmation he’d needed. He knew Blaine had no idea what was going on, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t investigating.

Nothing could stand in the way of his plot, not even an overly meddlesome son, but could Ethan really do whatever was necessary to stop Blaine from uncovering it?

A cold, cruel smirk played across Ethan’s face as he realized — he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty at all. He removed his jacket and unbuttoned his right shirt sleeve, rolling it up to his elbow to reveal a neat row of seven different runes that had been burned into his forearm during the binding spell. He ran his finger along them, stopping as he came to the rune for ‘werewolf.’

Why dive in headfirst himself when he had an army at his disposal?

* * *

Kurt lay on his stomach on his bed, the latest issue of Vogue open in front of him, his knees bent and his feet dangling in the air. He glanced at his phone, checking for any new texts in case he’d missed the familiar buzzing, and he felt disappointment stabbing into his chest. Not even a new message from Blaine, and he sighed, wondering if Blaine was upset with him about something. He’d thought they’d parted company at the Lima Bean on good terms, but maybe he’d missed something.

Rolling onto his side, he scooped up his phone, composing a new text to Blaine. He stopped in the middle of typing, a sudden coldness sweeping down his body, leaving his limbs rigid. He sucked in a breath, his head spinning, and the corners of his vision went dark for a second.

When he finally shook off the strangeness, he rose from the bed, walking stiff-legged toward the door. If he could’ve caught his reflection in the mirror, he would’ve seen his eyes glowing a faint red, but he kept his eyes forward, heading downstairs and out the door, ignoring his father’s question about where he was going.

* * *

Ethan stood in a clearing in the woods behind his estate, waiting for his army to arrive, and when a lone Navigator pulled to a stop at the edge of the clearing, he scowled.

“That’s it?” he growled, watching the teenage boy exit the Navigator. “One boy? Where is my army? Where are my masses? Why has no one else heeded my call?”

He scoffed when the boy just fixed him with a blank stare, blinking disinterestedly. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, sighing heavily. “Fine. You’ll have to do, I guess.” He’d have to look into the spell later and figure out what went wrong. He was sure he’d cast the spell correctly; it had been worded fairly simply. But no matter; one wolf was all he needed at the moment. He would deal with the other complication later.

The boy seemed vaguely familiar, and Ethan started to laugh as it hit him — it was the wolf Cooper had taken, who was apparently Blaine’s new best friend — Kurt something. Yes, that was it.

“Well, it doesn’t get more poetic than that, does it?” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “My boy, I have a very simple task for you.” He placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, looking straight into his eyes as he gave him explicit instructions.

* * *

After Wes and Blaine’s study session ended and Wes headed home for dinner, Blaine stretched out on his bed, staring up at his ceiling as he chewed his thumbnail. He tensed as he heard a knock on the door, swallowing as he sat up. “Yeah?”

His mother poked her head into his room. “Blaine, there’s a young man by the name of Kurt downstairs. Have you finished your studying?"

Blaine perked up at the mention of Kurt and grinned, nodding. “Yeah, Wes went home a few minutes ago; show him up. Thanks, Mom.”

He jumped up off the bed, scurrying over to the mirror to check his hair. Of course it was as flat as ever, but he was nervous. He’d never had a boy he had a crush on in his _bedroom_ before, and he quickly swept his gaze around the room, unusually tidy for a teenage boy. Still, he wanted things to be perfect, so he straightened up some items on his dresser and nightstands, wiping away imaginary dust.

When the second knock came, he hurried over to the door and opened it, smiling brightly at Kurt. “Hey! I was surprised when Mom said that you were here. I thought you weren’t going to come back. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you, of course.”

He frowned as Kurt brushed past him, and he hesitated as he closed the door. “Kurt, are you feeling okay? What’s going on?”

When Kurt didn’t answer him, Blaine felt dread sinking to the bottom of his stomach. “Kurt? Come on, look at me. You’re freaking me out a little here.” He blew out a soft breath. “I started trying to track down the spell my father cast, but he’s got so many books in his study, I don’t even know where to start.” He swallowed, gazing at Kurt’s back; Kurt stood at the window.

Blaine sucked at the inside of his cheek and cautiously approached Kurt, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Kurt-”

He gasped and stumbled back a step, his eyes widening as Kurt spun, snarling at him. Blaine felt a chill race down his spine as he saw the glowing redness in Kurt’s eyes, and he gulped. “K-Kurt, what... Your eyes, they’re-”

He backed up a step as Kurt advanced, and he shook his head, reading the tension in Kurt’s body. “Kurt, stop!” He shuddered, fear gripping him, as Kurt let out a low growl, and he took another step back. He had no idea what was going on, but he had to get out of there. Kurt looked ready to attack, and despite the fact that Blaine had taken an entire class on defensive spells last semester and gotten top marks in it, the one time he actually needed them, his brain shorted out.

Blaine knew he’d be in trouble if Kurt shifted to his wolf form, and he gulped, unsure of what was happening. Why would Kurt attack him? He thought they were friends!

“Kurt, listen to me!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands in a surrendering gesture as he backed away again. “Kurt, you’re...” He trailed off, frowning. He had a nagging feeling that he knew what caused the red eyes, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“...Dad’s spell,” he whispered. He couldn’t think of another explanation; the spell being cast, Kurt acting strange — Blaine didn’t believe in coincidences.

Kurt let out another growl, but it seemed more strained this time, and his face screwed up in anguish. “Blaine,” he croaked. “Something’s-” He twitched, shaking his head. “I can’t-” He hunched over slightly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Get out!”

Blaine’s heart thumped against his chest, and he nodded weakly. “I swear to the gods, I’m going to figure out what he did to you, Kurt, and I’m going to break it.” He opened his mouth to say more, hesitated, then quickly decided it was best to just run while Kurt was still fighting whatever was inside him.

So, Blaine turned, racing toward the door. He could hear Kurt’s anguished cry as he heard the most terrible noise of bones breaking and—

* * *

“Okay, I think that’s enough storytime for one night!” Kurt’s shrill exclamation cut through Blaine’s ‘scary story’ voice, pitched so low and deep it rumbled in his chest. “It’s time for bed, girls!”

A brisk clap of his hands effectively broke Molly and Stefani’s entranced stares, and they turned their heads in unison, both pouting at him.

“But Papa—” Stefani protested, poking out her lower lip.

Molly let her own lower lip quiver just the tiniest bit, the effect only slightly dampened by the fact that her eyelids drooped. “We wanna know if Daddy saved you!”

Kurt pursed his lips, glancing at his husband, who was also pouting, his big brown eyes filled with sadness, and he let out a heartfelt sigh as he picked up Molly and settled her against his hip.

“Yes, he did,” he said, smiling fondly at Blaine, “with true love’s kiss.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, then Kurt shook himself a little, casting off the besotted look he was certain was on his face. “But that will have to wait for another day. It’s _way_ past your bedtime, ladies.” He kissed Molly’s forehead and smiled as he carried her down to her room, her head already pillowed on his shoulder.

By the time he’d laid her down in her bed and pulled the covers up over her, she was fast asleep, and he brushed her hair back, kissing her forehead again. “Sweet dreams, little one,” he whispered before quietly backing out of the room and flipping off the light.

He grinned as he saw Blaine exiting Stefani’s room, and Blaine touched his finger to his lips, tiptoeing down to their bedroom at the opposite end of the hall. Kurt followed him with an impish smirk on his face, and he closed the door behind him as he entered their bedroom.

“It’s bedtime for all Daddies and Papas too, you know,” he teased, watching his husband strip down to his underwear and slide in between the bedsheets.

Blaine grinned as he settled back against the pillows, his hands tucking behind his head as he watched Kurt begin to undress. “Come here. I think we need to reenact that true love’s kiss — it’s my favorite part of the story.”

Kurt laughed as he neatly folded his clothes and set them on his chair, then picked up Blaine’s carelessly discarded clothes and folded them as well. Only when they were deposited in the chair on top of his pile did Kurt crawl under the covers with his husband, settling into Blaine’s embrace.

They kissed tenderly, hands wandering until they were breathless and shaky with need, and Kurt whispered, “I never did thank you for saving my life.” into the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

“You thank me every day you wake up in my arms,” Blaine whispered back.

Kurt felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and he kissed Blaine hard, his fingers curling in his husband’s hair.

When their lips finally parted, they both panted noisily, Blaine’s warm body nestled against Kurt’s and pressing him back into the bedding. Kurt couldn’t help but quip, “Just so you know, telling the girls _how_ and _when_ I turned you is strictly forbidden.”

Blaine laughed, his eyes dancing with merriment. “Not even if I tell them a kid-friendly version?”

Kurt snorted. “There is no way to spin ‘Daddy lost control in a fit of moon-addled lust and bit Papa in the middle of sex’ into something kid-friendly, Blaine.”

Blaine smirked. “Oh, give me time. I’ll think of something.”

Of course, the true story of how Blaine had saved Kurt from his father was a bit more complicated than just giving him true love’s kiss — but that is, as they say, another story for another time...

The End

  



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